Dimension Wander
by Tvillinger
Summary: Harry drinks a potion that sends him flinging through several dimensions, each different from the next. Life Two: An attempt at reaching paradise had flung Harry into hell. [[Soo sorry about the lateness!]]
1. Prolouge

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** Dimension Wander **

By Tvillinger

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Prolouge

"Harry Potter, falling asleep in class, now are we?" Snape shook his head. "Staying up too late, planning more ways for you and your friends to get in trouble?"

Harry stared straight ahead, eyes not even seeing the class. Snape's pestering had long since ceased to be a problem for him, especially when it was compared to all the other problems in his life. Like lack of sleep, for one. The pale skin of his face was marred by dark shadows under his eyes, hanging around like half moons. Everyone else in the class ignored the small scene, having grown immune to Snape's comments as well. Not because they, like Harry, thought that Snape was just trying to provoke him. It was because they happened to agree with the Potions Master.

It had been over two months since the Triwizard Tournament, since Cedric died, and since Voldemort had returned. In that time, there had been absolutely no sign of the Dark Lord's return.

Absolutely none.

Staying at the Dursley's all summer had been oppressing. Staying at Hogwarts in the last three weeks of the school term had been all but abusive. If it wasn't the Hufflepuffs, mourning Cedric's death and casting all the blame on Harry, it was the Ravenclaws, throwing curses and hexes at Harry even though all it really took to break him was one look into Cho's heartbroken eyes. Eyes that gave him nightmare, that asked him why he killed her boyfriend and future.

And of course, the Slytherins had declared the year to be the official "Harry-hunt," working behind the other houses to organize and supervise planed harassment periods when Harry's last few friends weren't around. Those times had stopped now, not because of the months of detention being assigned but because it wasn't any fun when Harry didn't fight back.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape announced, drawing an angry hiss from the Gryffindors. Oh yes, mustn't forget his own house, the house that turned on him as violently as it did back with the Chamber of Secrets episodes. Harry almost feared to sleep at night, scared of what to find happened to him in the morning. Almost, because before that very real emotion of fear showed itself, Harry's conscious reminded him that not only did he deserved it, he also didn't care.

Snape looked mildly disappointed when Harry didn't react, a flicker of concern on his face, but that didn't stop him from turning his billowing robes and striding back to his table. 

Hermione, sitting in the back of the room with Ron, tried to catch his attention. Ron looked like he was ready to throttle the greasy-haired creep but stayed sitting stiffly in his seat. The two, still loyal to Harry, had been forced to sit in the back not only because Snape ordered them to ("*sneer* Well, Miss Granger, since you seem to know so much about potions, why don't you sit in the back and give others a chance to learn instead of helping your friends cheat? And since you, Mister Weasley, seem to be in such a foul mood, why don't you join her?") but also because Harry forced them to. It was bad enough, he thought, that anyone unfortunate enough to be sitting next to him got hit by the random curses sent his way. It would be indefinitely worse when the houses turned and started targeting the last friends he had.

"Longbottom, I hope you've followed directions for once." Harry looked over to see Snape looming over Neville, the boy looking like a deer caught in bright headlights. "Because today's potions will be tested with each student." Neville went even paler. "A simple practice for the O.W.L.s at the end of this year," Snape's mouth turned into a twisted sneer. "In fact, I think I'll test your potion first."

Harry shook his head tiredly. Snape could always find someone to bully with Neville. Already, the class was filling with the discreet snickers of Slytherins, Malfoy smirking in cruel delight at Neville's discomfort.

Snape looked up to the students. "Any volunteers to test Mister Longbottom's potion?" he called out, sneer widening as the class went deadly quiet. His black eyes skimmed the students' heads before settling quiet unnaturally on Harry's. "Mister Potter."

Nasty bugger, the lively part of Harry's brain sniped. He only picked me because I was the only one brave enough to stare him down. Dutifully, Harry pushed back his chair and went to stand next to Neville, who was shaking with fear. "It's only a Dissolving Cream," Harry murmured quietly to Neville. "There's nothing you can really mess up on." He knew he sounded more pessimistic than optimistic, but Neville stopped shaking all the same.

Absently, while Harry waited for Snape to find an Anti-Dissolvable cup for Harry to drink from, he thought of the people who still dared call him friend. Hermione and Ron, of course. Fred and George, most definitely. And, like in his second year, the Gryffindor Quidditch team barely tolerated him but that was better than half the school. Neville acted like he wanted to be friends but was too scared to actually go against the main student body, but Harry didn't blame him; it was Neville's nature.

Ginny was a most unexpected friend, and a very loyal one at that. Briefly, Harry thought that Ginny was more of a Hufflepuff in nature than a Gryffindor, because while she was very quiet, she worked hard and was extremely loyal.

Seamus and Dean sometimes tottered, being friends and enemies in the same hour. Even twins' friend, Lee Jordan, acted like he couldn't decided what side Harry was on. The teachers (excluding Snape) were being very sympathetic to Harry so far in the year. Dumbledore made him promise to come to his office whenever something—anything—was wrong.

And of course, there was always Sirius. Mentally, the name brought a sunny smile to Harry's face. Sirius, who was more than likely feeling guilty because he hadn't been there for Harry, had donned his Animagus form to visit Harry very frequently. It didn't make sense, Harry often argued, that Sirius felt guilty for things he had no control over. When Sirius tried to turn this logic back on him, Harry deftly switched the subject. Harry had a suspicion that Dumbledore was worried about him and because of that worry, had allowed Sirius to come back from wherever he was hiding to stay with Harry.

Lupin kept in touch, frequently showing up on unexpected visits and sending all kinds of things from his own hiding place. And Hagrid was also sending presents from wherever the headmaster had sent him. Nobody was really letting Harry know details of the was against Voldemort.

"You've followed all instructions asked again.

Neville swallowed and nodded dumbly. Harry wondered what in the world was so important that Snape was acting this agitated. Over any other students, Harry would've understood the concern. But he was Harry Potter and Neville was…Neville. Two of the students Snape hated most, especially since Neville was almost guaranteed to mess up.

The potion itself was really simple, almost foolproof. It had been the only thing the class worked on for the past few days, the day before being especially bring since the potion needed to simmer for twenty-four hours before completion. Just add the regular odd potion ingredients, stir, and leave to boil. Then add a bit more and presto: instant Dissolving Cream, used by wizards and witches worldwide to painlessly dissolve any alien infections inside the body. It looked absolutely nasty, but then again, so did Snape. Why they called the drink a cream was beyond Harry.

"Here," and Snape thrust the bowl in Harry's startled arms. He had been wandering again.

A bit anxious, Harry stared at the steaming cup a second before catching Neville's eye—and Hermione's, Ron's, and Malfoy's at the same time—and throwing back his head, gulping the liquid down in a single gulp.

He knew, from the moment the potion touched his lips, that it wasn't right. Something about the way the smoke lingered, twisting and turning into shadowy figures without name or definition. But he had no idea just how bad things would get…


	2. 1

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** Dimension Wander **

By Tvillinger

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Chapter One -- Life One

"Isn't he an adorable little baby?" Lily cooed, dangling her fingers in front of the baby in her arms. Little James Harry Potter blinked his green eyes, looking as exhausted as she was herself.

She looked over to the pale, completely pale, face of her husband and smiled. It was a tired smile, but better than the expression that had been on her face moment before. "He looks like you…"

"Yea…" James murmured, awestruck at the package of wonder—and his own instant attachment to it. A solid hand slapped his back.

"That all you can say, Prongs?" Sirius joked, but it was toned down from his usual voice as he was also struck with the mini version of his best friend. "I think he looks just fine, except for the fact that he looks like you. But I'm sure he'll overcome that little deficiency, given time with his godfather."

"Godfather?" Peter muttered. His smiling face dampened some at the word. "Sirius, you lucky bastard."

Sirius just laughed, throwing an arm to include the shortest of his best friends in the circle. "I got here first, it's only fair."

"You only got here first because you had that alarm," Remus chided good-naturedly. "And because Peter was helping me with getting Harry's bedroom set up. A task _you_ were supposed to be helping with, you little sneak."

James ignored them all, reaching a hand out in a silent question. Lily smiled and handed the tightly wrapped bundle to her love, sighing with pure affection as he cuddled Harry in his arms. The other three stopped to watch with bemused smiles until a medi-witch stepped into the room, looking half-panicked, half-overjoyed. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to go. Parents only," she ordered the three friends out of the room before turning to James with a glazed expression. "Can I have you autograph?"

James chuckled but summoned a piece of parchment with his signature, one of many in his bag. When the nurse left, he handed Harry back to his wife.

"You know they only ask because you're a star Quidditch player," Remus' voice trailed into the room as the three reappeared under the invisibility cloak.

"And here I though it was because of my dashing good looks," James pouted.

Lily leaned up and pulled him against her, kissing him hard. "Sorry about the scratches, love," she murmured, fingering the deep gouges her nails had left. "And it is because of your dashing looks. They just know well enough not to test me."

"Feisty," Peter snorted.

"Never thought I'd see the day when James Potter would get beat up by Lily Evans," Sirius remarked, and the rest of the evening died down to a roaring simmer of comfortable silence.

*

"Little tyke knows how to play rough," Sirius complained one evening, laying on his back with Harry, bubbling with nonsense words, crawling across him.

Remus laughed quietly from his desk before quietly sighing and pushing away the stack of parchments in front of him. "I swear, the Ministry's trying to kill me with all this overtime work."

Peter walked in that moment, balancing baby dippers and warm baby milk. "You shouldn't be working with them, Remus," he chided. "You know what they think of…"

"Blimey, all these anti-magic fields are getting in the way," Sirius announced, quickly changing the subject as Remus' face turned sour. Personally, he agreed with Peter, but with the way his friendship with Remus was falling apart, Sirius didn't want to press the werewolf any further than necessary. "I try to summon a pop, and the alarm goes off in my ear. Lucky it only goes after the one trying to do magic, or Harry would be deaf."

"If he wasn't already, with all your talking," Remus teased, but the tension stayed thick in the air. Remus had been, for unknown reasons, avoiding all of his friends, Sirius in particular. It was only through Lily's brute strength, so to speak, that she'd been able to bully him into helping his two friends watch Harry for the evening, leaving her and James free to enjoy themselves.

Fifteen minutes passed before Peter stood from his games with Harry and reminded them that he had "work to do." Neither argued when he left because both knew what he was: an Auror.

"You know, I never figured Peter to work…his work," Sirius began, wincing.

Remus didn't seem to notice, not looking up from his game of 'Cho-Cho-Train' with Harry. "Peter's always had it in him. He just didn't want to show off his magic skills at school. Didn't want to take any of the spotlight away from James or Sirius."

"Well, I wouldn't know," Sirius replied with a wide yawn. "You were always closer to him than the rest of us."

"That's because I tried." Remus' voice came out much colder than he wanted. "I mean-"

"Don't try to explain, I know you're mad at me," Sirius cut in. "Let's stop playing, just for a second. And no rude comments." Remus' mouth snapped shut. "Tell me, Moony. Why are you mad at me?"

Harry gurgled. It was Remus' own imagination, but those brilliant green eyes showed understanding for the scene unweaving around him.

Remus scooped the babe up in his arms, standing while keeping his eyes away from Sirius. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sirius-"

"Sirius?" The name seemed to enrage him. "What ever happened to Padfoot? You never call me Sirius when we're talking serious talk."

"It was a teenage thing." Remus shrugged, keeping his eyes low. "I grew out of it."

"But you still call Peter 'Wormtail,' James 'Prongs.' You know what, forget that. Just tell my what's been eating at you, why you've suddenly decided that you need to avoid us."

But Remus shook his head. "Sirius…it's late and-"

"Hello! Anyone home?" Lily's voice called out from downstairs.

"Padfoot? Moony? Wormtail?"

"Quiet, James. Harry might be asleep-"

"Oh, so _now_ you want to be quiet?" Giggles echoed up the stairs along with a shriek and furious pounding at the stairs. Lily burst in, dark red hair a mess, and James followed an instant later, glasses askew. Both managed to look awkward at the stares coming their way.

"Um…"

"Peter's already gone, work and all," Remus smiled tightly, depositing Harry in Lily's arms. Harry clawed at Remus, trying to stay with him, but Remus gently unplucked the chunky baby fingers from around his robes and stepped back. "And I have to go as well. Ministry's been working harder than usual."

Sirius' eyes flickered with something like suspicion and Harry gave a single cry, startling everyone. Harry had been an unusual baby, smarter than most (or so his parents and their friends liked to believe) but the strangest thing about him was that he never cried. If he needed a bottle, he'd suck on his thumb. If he needed a change, he'd scratch at his belly. But never did he keep his parents up at night. His behavior made for some unusual stories in the wizarding world.

"Harry…?" Lily brought her son up to eye level. "What's wrong, baby?" And she swore, like she did daily, that her baby boy understood her. Harry kicked a foot and reached a plump hand for Remus who looked back, bewildered. Lily immediately handed her son over to the werewolf and he quieted down.

"Well, would you look at that." James smiled and laughed. "Sure knows how to get his way!"

Sirius watched the scene, his own eyes confused like he'd had something than lost it. Lily leaned against her husband, fingering his hand (the wounds hadn't healed yet, but James seemed to like them) when Sirius walked over, decided.

"Remus, you could stay for a little while longer, perhaps?" Sirius' eyes begged. When he saw the pure resistance, he added, "Besides, I don't think Harry wants you to leave, Moony."

"Moo, moo," Harry smiled delightedly, pounding his small fists against Remus' chest. Now everyone was floored.

"Moo, moo?" Lily's eyes were wide. She looked to Remus for explanation. "Moo, moo?"

Harry frowned in concentration and looked over to each individual in the room, laboriously repeating his own version of their names. "Pah!"

"Pah! For 'Pa?'" James wondered.

"No, 'Pah' for 'Padfoot.'" Sirius was pale. "He knows my name…"

"Mama, dada," and Harry was reaching out for his parents. Lily almost fell in her rush to gather her son in her arms. But he turned and pointed again to Remus. "Moo, moo."

"For Moony." And Remus smiled the brilliant smile that had disappeared in the days since Harry's birth. He even looked to Sirius and, with a shaky voice, announced his victory: "He said my name before anyone's. That means he loved me most!"

"You've corrupted my godson!" Sirius grinned, with tears in his eyes. "Can I hold him? Please? After all, he already said my name."

But try as they might, Harry refused to repeat his stunt, falling asleep in Sirius' arms.

"I wonder what brought this on," Lily murmured aloud as the four sat around the table downstairs, Harry safely tucked in his bed.

"What do you mean? You think Harry had a reason for just magically sprouting off the names of everyone in the room?" James pulled her into his arms, touching a hand to her forehead. "Are you alright, dear? Cause I swear, you're not the genius Head Girl I married if your sprouting off ideas like that."

"There…there was a reason," Sirius' voice was low and choked. Everyone looked at him and he blushed, alerting them because Sirius Black never blushed. "Tonight, before I came, Dumbledore alerted me to some information he'd received, directly from an extremely trustworthy spy. It seems that you Potters are making your support for Dumbledore too public."

"We never tried to hide our colors, true," Lily agreed. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"You have no idea how influential your family is," Sirius went on. "Did you know that over a hundred owls have come in to Dumbledore, telling him stories of people who've turned down offers to join Voldemort?"

They all flinched. "So?" James asked. "Not everyone's evil. Voldemort doesn't get everyone."

"Yes, but all of these owls have one thing in common: these wizards and witches have turned down the offer because they want to be like _you_, James, a star Quidditch player and one of the best defense wizards in the Ministry. Or they want to be like _you_, Lily, beautiful, young, and powerful, the person behind countless Death Eater raids and someone who's saved the lived of an entire _town!_"

The two were blushing hard.

Sirius sighed. "And because of this, Voldemort's finally turned his attention to you. Dumbledore tells me that He plans on attacking you, soon. Not only because you're an annoyance, but because your deaths would break more moral than any other."

And now Sirius stared straight into Remus' eyes. "Dumbledore also informs me," he whispered, "that this same spy has heard stories of another spy. In our midst. In our very circle of friendship."

The room was silent for a minute, then Lily and James erupted.

"A spy? Traitor? That's simply not possible."

"Sirius, are you mad?"

"Peter? You suspect Peter?"

"We've been best friends for _years_, Sirius! Peter would never, never turn on us."

"I'm surprised Dumbledore believes that," James finished, shaking his head. "It's all a bunch of-"

"You don't actually think Voldemort would try to recruit any of us, do you?" Lily asked with her famous temper looming behind green eyes. "Everyone knows how close we are. He knows he'd be wasting his time-"

Remus paled considerably, and his shoulders started shaking. "That's not exactly true," he whispered, so quietly that Sirius barely heard him.

James blinked. "What?"

Gritting his teeth, Remus explained: "For the past few months, I've been getting…owls. Promises." He started to sweat. "All about me joining Voldemort."

"Remus!" Lily breathed, astonished. "Why haven't you told us? Told Dumbledore?"

He shook his head. "I've tried, but the letters always burn before I can show anyone, and the words never come out right." His eyes darkened. "What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, hey, the Dark Lord over there thinks I'm pretty good material for his Dark Creature armies. What do you think?'"

"We would help you, just as we will now," James promised.

"This proved that we're not invincible," Sirius declared solemnly. "If Remus is being recruited, then Peter is, too. And it's very likely that he's given in." Sirius shook his head. "Looks like we've found our traitor. I'm sorry, Remus. Forgive me for ever thinking it might be you."

Remus' eyes widened but he shook Sirius' offered hand. "I would've suspected you, I guess, were I in your position." And he smiled. "Padfoot."

"I…still can't believe that Peter, of all people, is a traitor," James started but Lily hushed him.

"If Voldemort's going to attack us, what does Dumbledore have planned?" she asked. "Or do we just try our luck, see if we're the first people to defeat him?"

"Dumbledore wants to perform the Fidelius Charm, with himself as Secret Keeper," Sirius informed. "With the news of a spy, he doesn't trust any of us."

James smiled. "Well, I for one, trust my friends with my life." His eyes sought out Lily's. "Literally."

She shrugged, forcing a calm air around her. "If you want to trust _Sirius Black_ with our lives, it's very well with you," she huffed with mock indignity. "I, for one, still remember that prank he pulled back in Hogwarts, involving me and a singing sponge in the bathroom shower."

That broke the tension. Everyone laughed, and upstairs in his room, Harry smiled.

*

"No not Harry!"

"Lily, run!"

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Harry awoke in a burst of pain, hand going over his scar. His teeth stabbed his tongue, keeping him from crying out. Damn! Why? Why did they have to die again? He'd tried so hard, and nearly succeeded, too. If only Wormtail hadn't heard of the charm, days before it was performed. Voldemort had struck the very night before Sirius had planned on becoming Secret Keeper-

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?"

Harry sighed. He'd woken Sirius up again. "Yes, Sirius, I'm fine." His voice came out slightly high, but that was to be expected. He was, after all, only six years old.

Sirius' head popped up in the fireplace, looking worried. "You had another nightmare?"

Harry smiled, going for the innocent youth look. "You're a head! You're a head!"

"What in the-Sirius, you bloody idiot! What are you doing?" Remus' head was in the fireplace as well, looking distinctly disgruntled. "Figures that the night I decide to check on you two, Sirius is playing bloody head games at midnight."

"Moony!"

"Hi Harry," Remus smiled, stepping all the way through the fireplace (and taking pleasure by stepping on Sirius' face). "How are you?"

Harry beamed. "Six!"

Sirius' head left the fireplace and he came in through the door moments later. "So, how was the date?" he asked Remus slyly, raising an eyebrow.

The future-professor blushed and stuttered, "Sirius! Not in front of Harry!"

"Don't worry about it. Look: Harry, how are you?"

Harry took a good amount of pleasure, raising a hand and repeating, "Six!"

While Sirius laughed and Remus rolled his eyes, Harry laughed behind his six-year old eyes. What would his legal guardians do if he'd reacted any other way? "He's too young to understand what we're saying, isn't that right Harry?"

A door was knocked. "Coming!" Sirius called, strolling down the hall. The house was only a single-floor, with Harry's room on the far end and Sirius' next to it. In between the two ends of the house were the usual rooms: bathroom, guestroom (more often than not, Remus' room), kitchen, dining room, front room, enchanted closets, the house-elves' rooms. Just the usual, of course.

The door opened and down the hall that connected everything, Harry could hear Sirius' voice. "Headmaster! What a-a surprise!"

"And I'm sure you're very pleased to see me?" Harry could almost hear the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes. "No lying now." He chuckled. "I'm very sorry to bother you, Mister Black-"

"Sirius," Sirius cut in instinctively.

"Sirius, but I'm afraid that's exactly what I've come here to do." The was a brief moment of silence. "I don't suppose Harry's around now, is he?"

"Come on, Harry." Remus lifted Harry from his bed and lead him down the hall. Harry was surprised to notice how late in the evening it was. Surely his, um, _nap_ hadn't been too long, had it? It seemed that while his mind was still his own, his body had been reduced to that of the age he was "supposed" to be.

"Ah, there he is." Dumbledore smiled. "Just who I've come to see. Not too much of a trouble maker, now is he?"

"Well, he's only six so we can't blame him too much," Sirius joked. "After all, I think James and I were what, ten, when we pulled our first stunt. I remember how badly it scared us. We didn't do anymore until Hogwarts, when we had to act like professionals in front of Remus."

Sirius was very different from the one Harry knew. For one, he was happy. For another, he wasn't scared to mention James or his death. He still refused to mention Peter in all his memories.

Remus was rolling his eyes. "Let's just hope he doesn't get sorted into Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw."

"You're joking. Harry's as Gryffindor as it gets," Sirius boasted.

"I heard no mention of Slytherin," Dumbledore commented.

The two friends turned on him like he was crazy. "Harry? In Slytherin? That's like…like…"

"Impossible," Remus recovered smoothly. "Harry just can't be a Slytherin. Besides, we don't even know if he's magical, yet. I certainly haven't seen him do those wandless magic tricks all magical children can perform."

"Actually, that's the reason I'm here." Dumbledore reached into his pockets and withdrew an elegant-looking letter. "It seems that young Harry has been keeping secrets from the rest of us…"

Sirius tore at the letter, eyes skimming over it. "Harry Potter…misuse of magic? What?"

Remus snatched the letter. "But he hasn't _done_ anything! And I thought that kind of magic, the pre-school magic was allowed."

"It is," Dumbledore nodded. "Because magical children instinctively respond with magic before they can train their gifts, and the Ministry has to admit it. However," and his eyes traveled to lock onto Harry's, "the amount of magic Harry has been displaying is off the scale. It's almost as though he's been using real spells."

Harry nearly groaned. It had only been that one summoning spell, when Sirius forgot his blanket in the closet. And he'd only used "Lumos" a few times when the nightmare were really bad. He only conjured up that one bottle when he was really hungry. And surely the Ministry couldn't detect the silencing charm Harry had cast over the room to let Sirius sleep when Harry started whimpering…

He had messed up. Badly.

"You wouldn't mind allowing me to talk with Harry, would you?" Dumbledore was asking Sirius, who shrugged and walked down the hall. Remus followed somewhat unwillingly, probably because of the sly glances Sirius was shooting him.

When the two were out of reach, Dumbledore stared at Harry seriously. "Harry, would you like to take a seat?"

A child-sized chair was conjured up, and Harry sat.

"Now," Dumbledore sat on his own chair, "I suppose you don't understand much of what's been going on…"

"Actually, Headmaster, I understand more than you can possibly believe," Harry's childish voice argued.

Dumbledore sat up sharply. "Harry?"

Harry let out a sad smile that looked extremely ironic on his six-year old face. "It's me, Headmaster."

"Is there anything you'd like to explain? I truly doubt that there is another child your age who acts like you do."

Harry sighed. "It's a rather long story, with some unbelievable twists. Like I said before, I don't think you'd believe half of the things I'd tell you, and if you did, the other half would boggle your brain."

"Try me."

"Alright. First, I'd like to ask you if you knew that Voldemort is still alive…"

*

"They've been in there an awfully long time," Sirius fretted, pacing across the kitchen. A house-elf scurried out of his way, leaving behind a fantastic feast that Sirius sat down at and began chowing down.

"You think it's been long for you," Remus groaned. "I had to repeat my date, scene by scene, at least a dozen times to you, and you still wonder why I'm not going out with her again."

Sirius shrugged. "I had to do something to occupy my time."

"What! Is that all I am? A-a time waster?" Remus looked outraged. "Well, we'll just see about that."

"Now Remus, don't do anything rash!"

Remus paused with his hand lifted in the air, looking to the kitchen's door. Sirius was frozen, facing the receiving end of Remus' wand. "Do you hear that?"

"What?"

"That noise-oh, right. Sorry." Remus smiled sheepishly, putting down his wand. "Sometimes I just forget about how advanced my sense are. It sounds like Dumbledore's coming down the hall-"

And his words were confirmed when Dumbledore, lead by a house-elf, walked into the kitchen, a snoozing Harry in his arms. Sirius immediately leaped up and grabbed Harry, rocking the slight child carefully.

"He's an extraordinary child," Dumbledore announced with a bright, if shaky, smile. "And I can't say I'll look as forward to teaching any other student as I will teaching Harry."

"So, what's the verdict?" Sirius asked with a tight smile. "Will Harry lose his learning opportunity before he even gets to school? I don't think you can expel him this early-"

"No, in fact. I plan to teach him." Dumbledore smiled again at the two's expressions. "As I was saying, I'm looking forward to teaching Harry. Our conversation's proven that he has very exceptional and amazing skills that I think he needs to learn to control as soon as he can. The school term starts in a few months—oh, please forgive me! I forgot to ask if you would consider sending Harry to Hogwarts."

Sirius gaped.

"Of course, I can understand your hesitancy. There are many schools to chose from, if you want another choice for him-"

"The only choice for Harry is Hogwarts," Remus stated firmly. Then his resolve wavered and his voice was mildly shaky when he asked, "Headmaster, what did Harry say to have you making this choice? It's very unusual for anyone to start schooling earlier or later than the rest. It very rarely happens."

"I know that, Remus, and you know that. Harry, on the other hand, seems to be one of those exceptions to the rule. Sirius, are you prepared to give me an answer soon?"

Sirius shut his mouth, looking back and forth between Harry, sleeping in his arms, and Dumbledore, smiling brightly. He gulped. "Well, what choice do I have? I shouldn't be too surprised, I guess. Harry has to be special, with parents like his." Then he smiled and reached out a hand. "Of course Harry can go to school If he's ready and willing."

Dumbledore shook his hand warmly. "There are many places where you can live in Hogsmeade," he advised with that familiar eye twinkle, "if you think that Harry might enjoy a visit once or twice a week."

"Visits? But I thought only third years could go to Hogsmeade?"

Dumbledore waved the issue off. "Of course. But then again, Harry is an exception. Hogwarts will be very lucky to have him." Then he seemed to think about something and added, "And Harry will be going in as a fifth year, so there will be no problem. I wish you a very good day but I really must be going. People to discuss. Schools to prepare."

He apparated without seeing the blank, slightly-terrified looks on the two Marauders' faces.

*

This may be--in fact is--confusing. But I hope it makes enough sense for some people to like it! Next chapter: following Harry along as he tries to become a six-year old fifth year.


	3. 2

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** Dimension Wander **

By Tvillinger

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Life One -- Part II

"You don't have ta shove!" a slightly squeaky voice called out of the crowd.

Charlie Weasley, withdrawing himself from the many arms of his family, was the only one who heard it. "Mum, why's there a kid alone at the station?"

"What?" Molly looked around and spotted the little tike instantly, her mother sense buzzing. "Oh the poor dear! Do you think he's gotten separated from his parents?"

The 'poor dear' couldn't be much older than five or so, the top of his face almost completely hidden from view by such a bundle of black hair, the like of which Charlie had never seen. Charlie scratched his own bright red hair with his trademark confused look. "I don't know, he looks pretty confident by himself."

AS if he heard them, the kid turned and stared at the family, freezing in complete shock. And the Weasley family reacted no better.

Molly screamed.

"Harry Potter! It's Harry Potter, here at the train station!"

Heads swirled to stare at where Molly was pointing, most of them muggles with no idea who Harry Potter was. But the many wizarding families there to drop their Hogwarts students off all dropped whatever it was they were doing (resulting in more than one indignant owl), scrabbling furiously to see the famous Boy Who Lived.

Charlie saw Harry wince, could have sworn the child swore, and followed him as the boy took off, trying to lose the wizards and witches in the crowd. As discreet as possible, Charlie strolled over and examined the little pile of luggage Harry had been sitting beside. He didn't believe his eyes when he saw nothing other than standard Hogwarts supplies, all marked in the same lazy scrawl: Harry J. Potter.

"Aw, no! I _told_ you, Sirius. It doesn't matter how mature you think Harry is, he won't be okay left alone."

"Hey, hey! _I'm_ not the one responsible for this-"

"Balderdash. You're his godfather, for crying out loud. Now come on, we better find him."

Charlie wasn't sure whether he had fallen asleep but it sure felt like it as the two men walked towards him, arguing loudly. But when he saw the other wizards/witches' reactions, he knew he wasn't the only one. There he was, being approached by none other than Sirius Black, the famous Auror responsible for bringing in over half of all Death Eaters in the Ministry's custody, and Remus Lupin, the man who single-handily reversed almost every unfair law against werewolves and other 'dark' creatures. The legal guardians of the one and only Harry Potter.

"Excuse me, have you seen a small boy, 'bout yay high?" Sirius Black was asking everyone, his hand at his hip in an accurate measurement of Harry's height. "Glasses, black hair? No, well thanks."

Remus smiled tightly at Charlie. "You've seen Harry, right?"

Charlie could only nod dumbly, pointing off in some vague direction. Remus groaned and called over his shoulder, "I think there's a problem."

Sirius jogged over. "What?"

"Wizards." And Sirius groaned as well.

"I-I can help you find him," Charlie volunteered, rubbing his neck absently. "I saw where he went." Remus smiled and Sirius slapped Charlie on the back.

"Good boy. Now, lead the way."

*

Harry was scowling to himself, angrily watching the crowds at the station, and swearing to himself that Sirius had only _one_ more minute, or Harry would go through the barrier alone. And if one more of those crazy witches caught sight of him…

"Look, there he is!"

"Harry!"

He took off, not even bothering to see who it was. His black hair flew like a twisted cloud around his head, and glasses slipping down his nose, threatening to fall off.

"Harry James Potter! Get you skinny butt back here, or I'll sick the werewolf on you!"

And he stopped with a relieved sigh. "Sirius."

Sirius grinned and scooped Harry up. "You sure run fast. Couple more years and we'll try you out to play Quidditch. You remember what Quidditch is, right?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "'Course I do." 'More than you know.' "Can we go now?"

"Sure." Sirius ruffled Harry's hair, annoying the teenage boy stuck in the childish body to no end. "Remus got's all your stuff in the train. But there's still a couple minutes left until the train gets here. What, you so ready to leave? Am I that bad a dad?"

"You're not _too_ bad," Harry confessed, feeling ready to blush. "'Cept that time you dropped me. And when you turned my bath into a swimming pool-"

"Shh, shh," Sirius looked around to see if anyone heard. "You still remember that?"

"Course." Harry felt like rolling his eyes again, but a six-year old could only do that so many times before people got suspicious. "So can we go _now_?"

As much as he loved his godfather, there was seriously only so much Harry could take of the jokes, and the jokes, and the jokes. Remus was of the same ilk, so when the two of they ganged up on unsuspecting muggles, wizards, and witches, Harry laughed until it hurt. When they ganged up on him, he got back. And then he hid for the few days after, hoping that they're tempers would cool enough to let them remember how extremely important Harry Potter was to the wizarding world.

Neither of them yet suspected him of being anything other than their best friend's son, not even when the jokes he pulled were as great as their own. It was, to say the least, much better than life at the Dursley's.

But as he said before, Harry could only take so much before he went insane.

Sirius chuckled and patted Harry's back, leading him towards the barrier. Harry's hands went up to flatten the hair around his bangs, trying to keep his identity unknown.

Molly had greatly calmed down but her eyes were zooming across the crowds, trying to pick out the dark haired child again, while those around her were shaking their heads, thinking she was just seeing things. The twins, looking as troublesome as they always were, tried to sneak away, supposedly to stick the long sticks they carried behind their backs in one of their siblings' bags. Arthur was no where to be seen but Harry suspected that he was causing a stir, babbling over some muggle invention or other.

There weren't many others Harry recognized. He didn't really expect to, as most of the students would be ten or so years older than him. Charlie would've finished school last year, and Percy didn't start for another year. Harry wondered why the Weasley family was even there.

"So, you're sure you'll be all right?" Sirius asked, going into his parental mode that sometimes seemed to take over his godfather's body. "Not going to be scared of being by yourself?"

Again, with the urge to roll his eyes. "Yea, I'll be fine," Harry muttered, lowering his head and blinking. Crying? Was he crying? He lifted a baby hand to his eyes, wiping away the burning tear before anyone else realized that he was crying. "I better go."

Sirius wrapped Harry up in a great hug, tears coming from his own eyes, and they stayed like that for a few moments before the Express' whistle sounded to all magical ears, a last call for all departures. "You're a very special boy, Harry," Sirius murmured, "even if you don't want me to know."

Harry's eyes widened but Sirius didn't notice how stiff Harry's body suddenly went. "And I know that, while you're not as stupid as you act sometimes, you're not invincible like some seem to think you are. So, if you ever need to talk to me, I'll be just an owl away."

Sirius let go of his godson slowly, then leapt to his feet and strode away, not looking back once. Harry wiped at his eyes once more and turned to go through the barrier. Remus was there, mysteriously appearing with his own eyes twinkling, watery with tears. "Come on, Harry," the werewolf started, voice gruff with emotion. He pulled Harry along and stopped before the wall-that-was-not-a-wall to impulsively grab Harry into a hug.

"All you need to do is walk through that wall, and don't be scared," Remus was instructing through his soft sobs. "And there's nothing to be worried about."

"All right, Remus. I'll be all right." Harry smiled. "See you at Christmas, right? You're still coming?"

Remus sniffed and nodded, pulling away. "Sirius already moved to Hogsmeade, and Dumbledore gave you permission to go home whenever you want during the weekends and-"

"Goodbye, Moony." Harry gave Remus one last smile, feeling as close to the older man as he ever had, and walked through the barrier.

*

"Firs' years, over here! Firs' years over here!"

Personally, Harry thought that having as big a man, as scary looking a man as Hagrid being the first teacher most students ever saw was not a good idea. This view was supported when several first years fainted dead away.

It was raining hard, lightening streaking against the black sky. Harry's hair was matted down, sticking to his head. Not that he was complaining; the rain did more to hide his scar than most things Harry had tried in his life. Everyone was shivering, some huddling together for warmth, all making their dreadful way towards the huge half-giant swinging his lantern, looking to all the world like the legendary Big Foot.

"Is he going to eat me?" one first year whimpered. Harry chuckled, then coughed. Hagrid noticed this and noticed how small Harry was, even if he didn't notice who Harry was.

"'Ey? Ya gettin' cold there, little guy?" Hagrid asked, walking over to stand beside Harry. He towered over the six-year old, looking to be as tall as the sky.

"Um-"

"'Ere ya go, it'll keep ya warm," Hagrid continued, taking the massive robes from his shoulders and draping them on Harry. The weight nearly knocked him over. "Eh, it looks ta be a bit big for ya. Don't matter, I sup'ose. It'll keep ya warm. Firs' year, right?"

Harry shook his head and tried to say something.

"Wha'?" Hagrid leaned over. "Not a firs' year? What year are ya? Or you jus' comin' ta visit yur brother or sister? Look too small ta be in 'Ogwarts."

"I'm a fifth year," Harry repeated, trying to say the words as loud as he could.

Hagrid blinked then set to work cleaning his ears of the rain. "Sorry, but I thou' you said fifth year-" He stopped when Harry nodded enthusiastically and frowned. "Right then. This some sort'a joke? Can't be a fifth year, yur too small…"

Harry groaned in frustration as Hagrid deftly lifted him up and carried him to the boat with the other first years. The robes stopped his shivering but enveloped Harry in a deep, musky world of the unknown pocket of Rubeus Hagrid, where live mice made their home. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust the robes to fit him better, but there was no denying how extremely large they were compared to him.

Needless to say, Harry Potter was not a happy camper when the boats finished their lake crossing and the first years were dumped at Hogwarts' front gates. But he did manage to meet the two other first years in his boat, even if they did look down on him. Literally, Harry grumbled. Dumbledore wouldn't mind if Harry cast a growing charm on himself, now would he? 

The girl was very shy, whispering that her name was Madeline Taru, before shutting herself down. Either a Ravenclaw of Hufflepuff, for sure.

The boy, who either bravely or stupidly announced his name to be Aden Gray, gave Harry the impression of a Slytherin but he could as easily be a Gryffindor, depending on just how brazen he turned out to be.

From Aden, Harry learned of the local class bully, Brett Clayton, who was infamous for his mean pranks and tricks, though from what Harry heard, Clayton's works couldn't begin to rival the twins'. Clayton's most famous stunt was pouring a bucket of cold water down a first-years' shirt. There was also some girl Aden briefly mentioned, Nadi Faye, who seemed to be the exact opposite of Clayton. When Aden said Nadi's name, Madeline gave a start but wouldn't say what bothered her.

"'ere we 'r'," Hagrid announced, standing in the boat as it slowed, coming near the shore. He looked happy, seeing how everyone managed to stay in their boats this year but that smile vanished when several first years tried to follow his example, falling out of their boats or tipping everyone over with them. "'ey! Stay in yer boats, you don't know 'ow ta keep tha boats steady! Everyone, stay sittin.'"

Harry smiled and bravely stayed seating. Aden wasn't as smart and tried to stand, almost falling had Madeline not caught him as quick as she did. Fast reflexes, Harry commented to himself as Aden immediately fell to his back, clinging to the boat's side. "You have fast reflexes," he repeated aloud and Madeline blushed heartily, casting her eyes down. "You might be able to get on the Quidditch team next year."

"A'right, then, everyone stay in yer seats 'til I tell ya to get up," Hagrid was calling out, not noticing how close to the shore the boats were getting.

"Hagrid, watch out!" Harry called but it was too late. Hagrid turned where he stood to see what the matter was just as the bottom of the boats lightly skimmed the lake's sandy shore, bumping the boats with just enough force to send Hagrid reeling. Without thinking, Harry leaped to grab the half-giant's hand, absently noting Madeline doing the same. But the two were no match for Hagrid's sheer bulk and they went tumbling into the water after him.

When Professor McGonagall got to the scene, she was met with the extremely soaked first year population, many shivering from falling into the water as well as being beaten from the heavy rain. Hagrid was still dragging two young children from the lake's reach. "Well, don't stand there gaping," she snapped not unkindly. "Follow me." She looked uncomfortable there, standing in the rain, but Harry was hardly the only student who noticed with no little envy the way rain seemed to fall all around her, never actually touching her.

Harry hurriedly returned Hagrid's robes before taking after her, losing sight of her between taller classmates. "Professor McGonagall? Professor McGonagall?"

The woman stopped, turning to answer the call. "Yes?"

Harry shoved through the crowd, ignoring the cries of "Hey!" and "Watch where you're going, mate." "Professor, I need to speak with the headmaster."

McGonagall tapped her toes impatiently. "And what makes you think I'm going to just drop my schedule and take you to the headmaster, who everyone knows is busy enough?"

"Um…" Harry smiled winningly. "Because I said 'please'?"

Rolling her eyes, McGonagall waved him away and started leading the first years again, not stopping despite Harry's desperate called. When she got to the Great Hall, it was exactly like Harry remembered. She made some excuse or other to leave the students alone and with her disappearance, the ghosts of Hogwarts ran amok. Whatever bravery was left in the muggle-born students was stomped out as the ghosts either tried their best to be helpful or took fun in terrifying the students to death. Peeves was running through the crowd, not on the ground but from head to head. He took great fun in sometimes letting his ghostly hands slip through a person's body.

"Peeves! Knock it off!" Nearly-headless Nick was trying to stop the ghost's antics and was only ignored for all his efforts. Nick sighed and quickly apologized to the nearby students shaking in fear. "You'll have to excuse him. After awhile, you won't even be scared of him so he tries to get all the fun he can while you're still new to Hogwarts." His apology went on several minutes but he didn't seem to notice how it did nothing to quiet the students' fears; if anything, they were more afraid than ever.

"Off with you, now. Go on, shoo," McGonagall's piercing voice carried through the hall along with the echoes of the other classes. The other years all went and sat at their tables, eyeing the newbies with interest. Some poked out likely candidates for their respective houses, others just pokes fun: "That's a Ravenclaw, no doubt. You see all those extra books she's carrying?" "He's got the shiftiest eyes I've ever seen. I'll bet he goes straight to Slytherin." "_He'd_ better not be in our house. I couldn't stand someone so ugly."

When the murmurs quieted down to a tolerable level, McGonagall stated that all first years were to come up when their names were called and place a hat, a hat that few of the first years had even noted until now, on their heads. "That's it?" one first year complained to himself and his small circle of friends. "I could've sworn we had to face down dementors or something." Harry hid his smile, listening to the Sorting Hat's new song.

"Abrams, Cody." Abrams rushed up to slam the hat against his dark head, blinking in mild confusion when Harry guessed the Hat spoke to him. He had it on but another moment before it shouted out: "Hufflepuff." The Hufflepuff table went wild, welcoming the first student enthusiastically.

Harry let his mind drift as more students were called up, each being sorted to their own houses. Jessica Asher went to the Ravenclaws and Travis Avery was welcomed to the Hufflepuffs before McGonagall called out "Clayton, Brett."

Clayton was very timid looking, surprising Harry who had envisioned a Malfoy look-alike. He had dark black hair, looking more like a lost boy than a bully. But the hat barely touched Clayton's head when it screamed "Slytherin!" giving the table its first new addition. They didn't look pleased.

"Duncan, Ian," "Evans, Michael," and "Faber, Tabitha" were all sorted and set (Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff) before Aden was called.

The hall went silent for the near minute before the hat yelled "Gryffindor!" The Gryffindors' applause was earth shaking, especially when several jumped out of their seats to stomp their feet. McGonagall glared until the noise went down while Aden beamed, walking to the Gryffindor table where he was slapped and cuffed playfully, older students moving over to give him a seat.

The sorting resumed, the hat taking its own time to examine each student on an individual basis and each table wanting to make their new house feel as welcome as possible. Rafael Hynes became a Gryffindor, along with Amanda Keaty, Marcus Latham, Teal McKie Shelby Smith, Madeline Taru, Hamlet Troy, Tilly Valentine and Vincent Wolf. When Madeline became a Gryffindor, Harry was reminded of when Neville became a Gryffindor: nobody thought he belonged in the house, but he showed some courageous traits no one knew he had. And it took a lot of courage to keep going after what had happened to Neville.

The other students were sorted, an equal number in each house. For the Hufflepuffs, there was Sarah Jolson, James Letson, Becky Myer, Reeve Poole, Alexandria Reed, Jared Shaw, and Rachel Way. The new Slytherins was Abbie Jackson, Elena Kerrin, Jim Page, Crystal Reed, Troy Stone, Daisy Tate, Hilde Wale, and Jason Winn. Sam Kane, Monica Kirk, Matt Lake, Taffy Malony, Freddy Saul, Wren Tidd, David Veck, and Lacy Wolf joined the Ravenclaw table and dinner commenced.

Or at least it would have, had Harry not been left standing impatiently, tapping his foot and wishing that everyone would find someone new to look at. McGonagall looked baffled. Apparently, there had never been a student left over and she had no idea in how to deal with the situation.

Dumbledore saved her at the moment, standing up and drawing everyone's attention. "Minerva, you can sit down. Harry, would you come up here for a moment?"

McGonagall tried to save face and walked to her seat, sitting down. Her cheeks were rather red.

And she left Harry to begin the long walk, alone, to the staff table. With every single eye in the room focused on him, each reflecting some degree of confusion. Holding his head high and trying not to trip on his robes, Harry reached the table as Dumbledore met him there, placing a hand on his shoulder and clearing his throat before addressing his students.

"You may be wondering just who this is, and why he is here. Many of you know him by name if not by sight. May I have the pleasure of introducing," and he paused here for what Harry could only guess was drama, "Harry Potter."

When the noise dried to an amazed, unbelieving silence, Dumbledore continued: "Harry has accepted this chance to attend Hogwarts-"

"What?" a tall teenage boy called out from the Gryffindor table. His friends shushed him.

"-as a fifth year-"

And this time, more than one student was jumping to his or her feet, gaping with wide eyes and mouths and the Boy Who Lived. Harry thought that they resembled fish. Now Dumbledore looked annoyed, waiting for a few minutes for the students to take the initiative and calm down. When they didn't, he raised his wand and sent a rainbow of sparks flying over their heads. Girls screeched but everyone quieted down again.

"He will not be given 'special treatment,' as I'm sure many of you fear. In fact, he will be treated by any other fifth year student at Hogwarts." And then Dumbledore smiled. "Except that he's shorter."

"Professor!" Harry squeaked, going as red as Ron's hair. The joke had the desired effect and the Great Hall died of all tension. Dumbledore strode over to the Sorting Hat and examined it.

"As a student, you'll be sorted. So if everyone will be seated, we'll get this over with and then you may eat." Satisfied smiled appeared on everyone's faces and those that had been standing sat down with sheepish grins.

Dumbledore handed the hat to Harry, whispering in a quiet voice so that none would hear, "I believe you've been through this, but you must keep all appearances up of a normal student."

Harry took the hat, feeling no anxiety, and placed it on his head.

__

And who might you be? Ah… Harry Potter. But something seems wrong… a different time? It doesn't seem possible but then again, that deals with things out of my range. So let's see: yes, very cunning and ambitious when you've a mind to, but you're extremely loyal. And you seem to be especially clever. Gryffindor at heart, I see. There's Slytherin in you, though. Yes… a difficult choice.

'So, I don't really belong in any house?' Harry asked, beginning to feel nervous.

__

Don't belong? No, I'd say you're very nearly a perfect image of what each of the founders had in mind when they made me. You're not a pure blood but your magical inheritance cleans any muggle-ness out of you, or that's what Salazar would say. You even have his special abilities, the snaked tongue.

Harry gulped, noticing how everyone was staring at him, realizing how long he'd been standing there with that hat on his head. 'Do you think you could hurry up? I think I'm beginning to look a bit silly.'

__

This isn't a choice you can make and retake whenever you feel like it. Now, you're ever bit as loyal as Helga would want you to be, and willing to work your way through all your problems. And you've a mind Rowena would be proud of- she'd tell you to develop it more, but then again, that's what she'll tell everyone. Godric would tell you to go with your heart, so I believe the choice is up to you.

'Me? What do you mean me? You're the magical device thingy, you're supposed to be able to do this!'

__

If you're sure you want me to choose…

'Yes,' Harry thought stubbornly.

__

Then I'll have to say "The Four Houses!"

"What? No! You're supposed to choose one house for me! _One house!_" Harry's voice yelled through the hall after the shock wore off. He ripped the hat off and glared at it. "Figures every time I put you on, you find some new way to get me upset-"

"Harry," Dumbledore had a smile on his face but his eyes had none of their usual twinkle. "Perhaps you'd like to give me that Sorting Hat back?"

Feeling even redder than before, Harry reluctantly handed the weathered hat back and tried to smile. "I don't suppose there's another one?"

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore replied. "We'll have to work with what the Sorting Hat gives us." He looked around the silent Great Hall. "For tonight, at least, I think you should stay with the Gryffindors."

Harry nodded and dumbly made his way to the Gryffindor table. They watched him before one student began whispering, "We've got Potter. We've got Potter." Soon, the chant was picked up by the rest of the table and the six-year old was lifted up and placed in a chair, and cheered loudly. Some things never changed, Harry thought with a wry smile as Dumbledore made a quick comment about having announcements announced at breakfast before summoning food for the hungry mouths.

"We've got Potter!"

*

Thanks for alla reviews! Siren! Hi!


	4. 3

****

** Dimension Wander **

By Tvillinger

****

Life One -- Part III

There was much to be said for silence. Sometimes, it was overwhelming, an army of quiet creatures entering your brain without being heard to mix your thoughts and mess with your actions; silence was crazy. But then again, there was a silence that cut off the world, wrapped you in her embraced, and sent you spiraling down a delicious chain of comfort.

This silence was neither of these two. If anything, it was the wary quiet before the breaking of an iceberg to the water's surface, wowing the ship's passengers even as it sunk the ship.

Harry blinked and the class blinked back. He blinked again, and so did they. His mind, slightly warped by the overpowering noise of nothing, snickered and a blinking game broke out, neither side planning on giving up without a fight.

*Blink*

*Blink*

*Blink*

*Blink*

*Bli-

"Mr. Potter, as entertaining as you may find this, I must ask you to return to your seat," McGonagall broke in, a faint smile threatening to pull away her threatening demeanor and enlighten the classroom to her softer side.

Harry finished his blink and hurried to his seat, glorying in his victory while the rest of the fifth years wondered what to make of the small boy. As if sensing their stares, he went back to staring, almost pulling the class into another blinking contest when McGonagall slammed a book onto her desk, the smile disappearing into annoyance. "Mister Potter!"

"Sorry, professor!" Harry eeped, an innocently abashed smile on his face. He'd learned through practice on his two guardians that the look (commonly known as "puppy-eyes") was the most effective way to get out of trouble. And it worked on anyone, if you are cute enough. Harry had learned that he was cute enough, indeed.

McGonagall tried to keep her glower up but it crumbled against Harry's face and she turned her back, shuffling papers. "Right, then. I'll be testing you to see how much you remember from last year and to see where your strengths--and weaknesses--lie. Harry, I honestly don't know how to deal with this situation so you'll be taking the test as well."

Harry nodded eagerly, hoping to get on her good side especially since the stories Remus and Sirius told him of their adventures bagged her as a great ally. The professor walked to the front of her desk, frowning her disapproval of the class and started the instructions:

"On each desk, you will find a simple key. I want you to transform each key into an animal that flies, no larger than your hand. I'll continue from there."

The first animal that came to mind was a dragon, but Harry seriously doubted that it would be any easy thing to transfigure a key into a dragon, and a small dragon at that. 'Unless it was bronze...'

Harry sat up with surprise as the steps came to his mind. As he thought it over, he smiled at how easy it would be and picked up his wand. 'Transfiguration is when you change something into something else, but that doesn't mean it only takes one step. Just focus and keep thinking about what you want the key to become.' Harry closed his eyes and thought hard about what steps he could take to turn the key into a small dragon. 'It needs to be longer, so I'll change it into a piece of string.' Concentrating, Harry's lips pressed together and when he opened his eyes, a long, silky strand of gold laid on the table.

'Perfect! Now, for the legs.'

The class went by surprisingly fast as Harry's key/string sprouted legs and tiny wings, each opposite end gaining distinct features as either the tail or head. As a special effect, Harry added miniature horns and made the tiny scales glitter. In the end, his dragon burst to life with a low snarl, biting at Harry's fingers. Delighted, Harry grabbed it by its neck, bringing it up to look into the glittering, multi-faceted eyes. It snapped at him, wringing its neck back and forth while its tail swished like a living thing.

"Hey! Behave!" Harry commanded just as the dragon sunk its small teeth into Harry's forefingers. He nearly dropped it.

Harry grabbed his dragon by the neck and stuffed it under his transfiguration book, feeling a small twinge of guilt when it let out a strangled roar. Looking around the room (and standing on his chair to do so), Harry wasn't too shocked to see mostly plain, nondescript finches and pigeons, an owl or two, but nothing out of the ordinary.

McGonagall nodded from her spot at the front of the room and clapped her hands together. "Good. Now, each of you take your animal and change it back to the key. Any discrepancies will count against your grade, so I advise you to do your best."

"Change it back?" Harry repeated. His dragon worked its snout out from beneath the book and was currently trying to torch the pages with its small flames, accidentally burning one of Harry's fingers. He yelped.

"Is there a problem, Harry?"

Harry blushed and shook his head. "I-I closed my book on my hand," he explained, blushing deeper at the scattered laughter.

McGonagall watched him a moment before going back to her work. Harry sighed and again picked the dragon up by its neck, smothering its fire. "But you're so small!"

The dragon snapped its jaws, disagreeing with Harry's statement, and extended its wings shakily. Its wingspan was easily twice its body length, and Harry was amazed at how the wings had folded themselves so easily. "Easy, there. You might-" but the dragon ignored his warning, taking off despite Harry's grip on its neck. It strained and bit at Harry until his finger were red and he let go with another yelp.

"Mister Pot-" McGonagall's angry rebuke was cut short when Harry's dragon flew up to her desk and immediately started a fight with one of her quills.

"I'm sorry, professor," Harry babbled, running up to grab the dragon, pulling it up against his chest, effectively squashing its wings. It gave an undignified squeak and fought but Harry wisely kept a layer of black robes between his skin and its mouth. "It's mine. It just got away and-"

"Harry, just... just go back to your seat," McGonagall replied faintly. "And turn it back to a key."

"I, uh," Harry searched for the words he wanted to say but didn't think the professor would respond quite so nicely if he just yelled "No!" and ran from the room. "It won't change back," he settled with saying. "Can I just leave him like this?"

"Him?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow. Harry stuttered but handed over the small dragon as she extended her hand. She concentrated for awhile, obviously trying to change the transfigured key back to its original form. Blinking, she looked to Harry. "What exactly did you do, Harry?"

"I, I just changed it," Harry answered lamely, aware of the class's eyes on him. "Like you said."

"I can see that," McGonagall snapped, and Harry winced. "What steps did you use?" He quickly described his transfiguration, going through all the steps. McGonagall frowned and concentrated again, taking a deep breath but still came back, unable to change the dragon back. With a defeated confusion, McGonagall stuck her hand back out. "Here, take it. It's your responsibility until we find a way to change it back."

The dragon crooned delightedly back in Harry's hands, talons scratching his fingers, and suddenly Harry realized that he didn't want it to turn back to a key, anyway. "Al-alright. Professor," he started quickly as a thought crossed his mind, "this won't lower my grade, will it?"

McGonagall fixed Harry with a long look. "Normally, I'd say yes, but since even I can't change it back and because you picked such a difficult animal... no. You'll receive full point, provided that your animal doesn't suddenly become free and wreak havoc on the school." She was frowning but Harry smiled anyway. "Oh, and ten points to Gryffindor, for doing such a good job."

"But, professor, I'm not a Gryffindor."

*

"Potions," Daniel Rolfe moaned.

"Double Potions," Kara Mace, his girlfriend, corrected with the same dread. "With Slytherins."

Nadi Faye smiled at her friends but shook her head. "Come on, it's not that bad-"

"You're just saying that because you have a crush on Dale," George Luz laughed, coming up to sling an arm across her shoulder, pulling her close despite the bright blush that broke out on her face. "And everyone knows it, so don't bother trying to hide it." Nadi batted his arm away, laughing.

Harry trudged along behind them, suddenly feeling very left out. They were all bigger than him, physically if not mentally, so he was mostly forgotten. With a sudden dread, Harry wondered if Snape was going to take points away from him just because he started school early.

The night had gone fast, Harry getting stuck in a first year's bed. Better than the crib-like thing that Sirius had waiting for him at home; more of a practical joke than anything else. Sirius was better at being funny than at being a parent, so Harry felt he was much better off being stuck like he was than being a real six-year old in Sirius' care. There was a number to count the times Sirius nearly got the two of them killed... o.k., there was, but it was really high! Swear!

The fifth years sulked into the dark and dreary potions room, already occupied by the Slytherins, and took their seats. Snape entered just as Harry was about to sit down and he froze. "Mister Potter... our new-"

'Celebrity,' Harry finished for him bitterly.

"-_celebrity_." Snape smiled as if extremely pleased with his wit. "If I remember correctly, you have yet to correct you sorting mistake." Harry nodded with narrowed eyes, wondering if his face looked angry or cute (it had a habit of turning out to be extremely cute when he wanted to look threatening). "Then I think you will be sitting with a house where you'll be more likely to learn. Please take a seat beside Mr. Ohno."

"What?!" Harry squeaked.

Snape's eyes narrowed and Harry suspected that Snape looked more threatening then he had a moment before. "I said, Potter, to sit next to Ohno," Snape repeated from his gritted teeth.

Harry took the initiative and quickly sat beside the tall, dark fifth year Slytherin, feeling more than a little upset when he heard no noise of complaint from the Gryffindors. Ohno smiled thinly before turning his attention to the greasy haired professor at the front of the class.

"I told those of you who weren't special enough to skip your first four years that there were ways I can teach you to bottle fame and glory. Though there are those of you who do not seem to need this potion, this year the headmaster has given me permission to teach you how to make such potions, as well as how to fight them."

"Bugger," Harry muttered darkly. "He's always picking on me, isn't he."

"That's because you're so small," Ohno chuckled softly. Surrounded on all sides by Slytherins, with his fellow (well, not exactly) Gryffindors on the other side of the room, the sound of laughter was a little shocking to Harry. "My name's Dale." Seeing Harry's expression, he chuckled again. "Well, I'm not going to bite, you know."

"Oh!"

Snape heard Harry, even though his ears had evidently been closed when Dale was talking, and he barked out, "A point from Gryffindor for interrupting my class, Potter."

"Sir, I'm not a Gryffindor," Harry shot back. 

Snape looked lost for words a moment before glaring. "That's right. Too special to be in any one house. Do you want me to make that a detention?" Harry quickly shook his head. "Then shut up and pay attention."

"You should take advantage of that while you can," Dale whispered. Harry gave him a confused look. "Having no house. You can't lose anyone any points, so no one's going to get mad at you if you do something stupid. Of course, the professors might just refer to giving you detention but that's a risk you'll have to take."

Harry chuckled, drawing Snape's attention again. "Potter, what part of the lionfish do we use in potions?"

"The spine, sir."

"How do you prepare Abyssinian shrivelfig?"

"You have to peel it, sir."

"What's the difference between aconite, monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Nothing, sir. They're all the same thing, just different names."

Snape glared and Harry met it bravely. "What potion uses armadillo bile?"

"A Wit-Sharpening Potion."

"When do you pick fluxweed?"

"During the full moon."

"Where is gillyweed found?"

"The Mediterranean Sea, sir."

"What do you use Jobberknoll feathers for?"

"Truth potions and serums, professor."

"How long do you stew lacewing flies?"

"Twenty-one days, sir."

"What is the most dangerous snake alive?"

Snape's smug tone was wipe out when Harry shivered and promptly answered, "The basilisk."

"And what is used in the potion to fight its petrifaction?"

"Mandrake, sir."

"What must be used in a polyjuice potion?"

"A lot of things, sir. Do you want me to list them for you?" At Snape's look of disbelief, Harry began listing off what he remembered: "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, knotgrass, powerdered bicorn horn, shredded boomslang skin, and a piece of whoever you plan on turning into, like a strand of hair."

Snape, and the class, started at Harry with something beyond the regular disbelief. An uncomfortable feeling worked its way up his chest and Harry thought it might be because he'd given away too much. It wasn't, of course. Moments later, the dragon clawed its way from Harry's shirt, sticking its head from the top of his robes to snarl at everyone.

"What," Snape asked softly, "in the name of all that is good, is that, Potter?"

"Oh, um, it's a project from Professor McGonagall," Harry answered with a cheeky smile. "I have to turn it back to a key."

Snape extended his hand angrily, muttering a summoning spell and the small dragon yelped as it found itself in Snape's hands. Snape examined it a moment, the same look of intense concentration on his face as was on McGonagall's, and reaching the exact same results. The dragon bit at his hands, snarling and thrashing about, small horns cutting the skin as neatly as its talons. Cursing, Snape threw the thing into the air where it took flight, lazily spiraling in the air a moment before yelping as Harry's summoning spell drew it back.

"It's charmed so only I can do it," Harry stated defiantly. "Not even Professor McGonagall can change it back."

Snape glared and Harry glared back (but there was still a problem with that degree of cuteness in his face). When Snape went back to lecturing on the many dangers of popularity potions, picking on Harry as often as he could, Harry settled back in his chair, shifting uncomfortably on the books he had to sit on to get his elbows on the table. And he realized how great it was to be a kid.

*

"Harry, could I see you a moment?"

Harry was startled out of his extremely funny conversation with Dale and his Slytherin friends as he looked up to see the headmaster, waiting outside the potions' classroom door. "Um, I'll see you later," he said to Dale, who promised he would, ruffling his hair. Dumbledore smiled as the students started away, leaving behind only him and Harry.

"Come, let's take a walk..."

"Harry, I realize that, while you are mature beyond reason in your mind, your body has not yet reached a level to which it can handle the daily strains that Hogwarts puts on it," Dumbledore stated kindly as they walked alongside the lake. Beyond reach and far under water, a dark and massive body moved; the giant squid, swimming gracefully in its home. "You're body is still growing. Both Remus Lupin and Sirius Black have contacted me with a pile of concerns, more than once a day, and some of these concerns are very reasonable."

"Sirius is bothering you because he doesn't think I sleep well without my blankie," Harry deadpanned.

Dumbledore laughed, bringing a hand up to Harry's shoulders. "I admit, some of his owls are better left unread, and he has mentioned a certain 'blankie,' as you've already guessed. But he and Remus have brought to my attention the fact that you are still six years old."

Harry stopped. "Does this mean I have to do stuff, like take naps everyday?"

"It means that for certain activities, you will not be allowed to join." Harry raised an eyebrow in question. "The Care of Magical Creatures, I believe, is too much for you, especially with out newest teacher. Professor Kettleburn tends to be a bit enthusiastic, but comes away with more injured students than not. And yes, I think daily naps are not out of the question."

"I'll just take them during History," Harry promised. Dumbledore kept quiet as they walked on. "But, that's not it, is it? Professor... you can't mean to take Quidditch from me!"

"I'm afraid I must, Harry," Dumbledore replied quietly. "It simply is too much a risk-"

"But, I'm great at it! I've never once fallen off my broom. Ok, maybe once, but that's because there were dementors and not really my fault. But other than that, never! And I'll be super-careful, I promise." Harry sniffed with a tear in his eye. "Please, sir. Don't take away Quidditch."

"But who would you play for?" Dumbledore rumbled. "We still have the matter of sorting you into a house, or at least arranging for you to have a permanent sleeping area. You know that tonight, you'll be sleeping in the Ravenclaw tower. Will you simply pick a house and stay with them?"

"If that's what it takes," Harry pleaded. "Or I'll just play for all the houses. Please, headmaster. It's not fair."

Dumbledore sighed. "Alright, but on these terms: if, for any reason, you are unduly injured in a game, you must agree to withdraw." Harry nodded eagerly. "If, for any reason, one or more of the houses believe that your playing for all the houses to be unfair, you will not play for that house or against it. You must also agree to follow any restrictions I place on you, or at least try not to break those restrictions where I'll find out." Harry nodded for each of the rules, dark head bobbing up and down.

With a tired smile, the headmaster started leading them back to the school. "I feel my years on days like this," he murmured, voice sounding lost. "Do promise me that you'll take care of yourself, Harry, and that you won't let anyone push you into something you'd rather not do, that you won't let anyone else mold you into something you're not."

"Of course, sir," Harry's voice promised fervently.

Snapping out of his reverie, Dumbledore looked at his watch. "Oh dear, I believe you're missing your lunch hour." A growl came from Harry and the headmaster smiled. "And you're missing it dearly, I suppose."

"That wasn't me, sir," Harry replied, pulling the dragon from his robes. "I turned a key into this, and now it won' turn back. Professor McGonagall can't change it, and Snape already tried. But the thing is, I want it to stay like this."

"Ah," Dumbledore looked over the little gold dragon, "but magic is at its best, working when we don't know it."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Your magic is responding to your wish that your new pet stay the way it is. Essentially, you are fighting back any transfiguration that would turn this small dragon back to its key form, and while it's not dangerous, such magic is usually draining. That is why neither of your professors guessed at the reason why your dragon won't change back; you are showing no signs of exhaustion, as most wizards would."

"Are you saying it's my fault?" Harry asked, trying to rephrase Dumbledore's words. He nodded, making Harry smile as he stroked the lizard. "Good. Because as long as I can keep him like he is, I'll be happy."

"Have you decided on a name or will you just refer to it as the dragon?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry considered that a moment then shook his head. "No, but that's just because no name really fits him, you know?"

Dumbledore smiled wisely. "Yes, I understand. It was many years before I settled on a name for Fawkes, almost ten if I remember correctly." They got to the school again. "I must be off, Harry, but remember not to judge anyone you meet too harshly."

"Whatever that means," Harry muttered to his dragon as they got to the Great Hall. Most of the seats were filled with loud, talkative students, the only empty chairs on the ends of each table. Harry looked at each table a moment before heading to the Hufflepuff table, taking a seat next to Travis Avery, a first year.

"Hi!"

Travis shifted, mumbling, "Hello," under his breath.

'Kind of shy, isn't he?' Harry thought to himself. "I can sit here, right?"

Travis stared at Harry a moment before looking down. "_You're_ asking _me_?"

Harry frowned. "Of course. Is there a problem? Because I can go on and move if you want me to-" Travis shook his head and Harry calmed down. His dragon clawed its way from one of Harry's pockets, attacking the dinner with a vicious tooth. It attracted attention, and more first years moved over to where Harry was sitting.

"Hi," one girl greeted warmly, hair pulled up into two buns on the sides of her head, accenting her Asian features. "I'm Alexandria Reed."

"And I'm Rachel Way," another girl introduced herself, pushing Alexandria out of the way.

"Um..." Harry felt the stirs of claustrophobia. It was very interesting, how that particular fear worked. You didn't know you had it, at first, until you were suddenly surrounded by a crowd of gawky first years, all of whom (embarrassing, though it was to admit) were taller than you. Harry squirmed.

"Harry Potter, we know," one of the guys smiled. Names were tossed at him, too many for him to remember, and he thought that they were doing that on purpose; trying to trick him into becoming confused and overwhelmed. A sudden, irrational fear urged him to make sure that his dragon was still with him.

"Alright Harry, we better get going," Travis broke through the crowd, pulling a dazed Harry with him. The dragon screeched at the indignity of being left behind and flew to Harry's shoulder. "Big charms problem," Travis threw over his shoulder at the kids watching them leave. "Can't be late."

"Wow. Hey, thanks," Harry took a deep breath. "Never thought I'd see the day when I was the shortest kid at school. I mean, sure, I'm not exactly tall but-"

"What are you talking about?" Travis interrupted. Then he remembered who he was talking to and shut up.

"Oh, uh, nothing!" Harry looked up to Travis and frowned. "Here, let me show you. If I stand next to you, I'm only getting up to about your chest. Can you imagine what it's like, walking around, seeing at best only up to everyone's chest?"

Travis blushed and Harry blushed as well. "Wait, that didn't come out right-"

"You are Harry Potter, right?"

"Course I am. Got the scar and everything."

"Then why do you act so weird?" Travis nearly shouted in exasperation.

Harry grinned. "It's a side affect of only seeing everyone's chest." He groaned. "_Again!_ That didn't come out right!"

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not really. Talking is another side affect, this time of having a mouth. And being human, cause we humans are social things. Though, it might just be the result of being denied a childhood and then forced to live with Sirius Black. He's not exactly what you call 'parent material,' if you know what I mean and swear not to tell him I said so."

Harry was grinning madly, loving the confused expression on Travis' face and delighting in the freedom babbling gave a person. No wonder Hermione often went off on tangents. It was just so easy.

Travis was shaking his head and Harry added, "I know you're thinking that I'm supposed to be a superhero because I defeated Voldemort and all. I like to think that this scar sometimes affects my thinking. Even if it's not true, it give me the best reason in the world for acting crazy."

"Acting?" Travis smiled a little at this, coming out of his shell. "No, 'being' is the word."

Harry gasped with mock outrage. "Not even a day!" he complained to the wall. "Not even an hour! Not even a minute-alright, maybe a minute but not much more than a minute, and here I am, being insulted!"

Travis looked caught between amusement and apology. Seeing Harry's wacky smile, he smiled as well. "It's a side affect at being friends with the insane. Those of us who are tend to insult people, trying to see if they're insane enough to make a joke out of it."

"I assume you weren't talking about me, because I'm definitely not insane," Harry boasted. His dragon strutted in the air, copying his movements.

Travis rolled his eyes. "You're only this tall," and his hand went up to his chest, "and you think I'm afraid of you? I can beat up my brother, and he's even bigger than you!"

"Don't be so sure!" Harry started to withdraw his wand. "I challenge you...yea, I challenge you..." He stopped, pulling out everything from his pockets, turning them inside out. "One sec'."

Travis tapped his foot impatiently, then leaped back as Harry dropped various things on the floor. Heavy books, shrunk to fit his pockets; pieces of candy and chocolate frogs half melted onto their cards; a wrinkled picture of his parents-

"Class will be starting any minute, you know," Travis commented idly. "If you're about to challenge me to a Wizards' Duel, you got about five seconds to get on with it."

"I know, I know," Harry muttered, "but I can't find my wand!"

"And it certainly isn't in your sleeve," Travis remarked, pointing to the protruding stick. Harry gasped and pulled it out, then set back to the task of replacing all his discarded items. Students, rushing by to get to class, paused to see what was going on.

Finally, Harry stood back up, aiming his wand at Travis. "Ha! You thought I couldn't do it! I challenge you to a, to a-"

"Duel."

"Yea, duel!" Harry tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Whoever wins gets a chocolate frog."

Travis made a face. "But it's all melted."

"Twice the flavor!" Harry promised, but his voice sounded less than convincing.

Travis looked at the melted frog and grimaced. "Maybe later, when my taste sense have died down a bit."

"Chicken!"

"Am not."

"Are too.

"Am not."

"Am too."

"You've got some bad grammar, there, Harry," a voice interrupted. Dale made a show of looking at his wrist. "But I'd say that grammar isn't the only thing you're missing. If you hurry, you might make it to your next class."

"Oh no! Charms!" Harry took off running. "Bye, Dale. Bye, Travis!"

"Mr. Avery, do you need me to escort you to your class," Dale asked in a dangerously silky voice once Harry was out of hearing range.

Travis shook his head, starting off.

"Don't try anything, Avery," Dale warned suddenly. "If Harry were to suddenly get hurt, yours would be the first back I skinned."

"If you think to threaten me, Ohno," Travis replied coolly, "you should first think to where your alliances lie."

"As should you, Hufflepuff."

Travis stiffened. "That's low," he hissed. "But not as low as a Slytherin whose loyalty wavers between power and goodness."

"To class now, Mr. Avery," Dale intoned, "or it'll be ten points from Hufflepuff."

Travis sneered at the fifth year and headed away, not looking back.


	5. 4

****

** Dimension Wander **

By Tvillinger

****

Chapter Four -- Returning Home

"Sirius, Remus, do you have any idea why I've called you here?" Dumbledore asked, voice undemanding and understanding. The voice of a trusted elder, or a grandfather. Not someone who should be feared, someone who shouldn't be any bit frightening.

Which was why Sirius was having a hard time explaining to his subconscious exactly why he was sweating so badly. Must be previous experience, seating in this very chair as a teenager after committing some hilarious--and, unfortunately, very dangerous prank. The only good thing he could see to this was that Remus, seating beside him, looked just as nervous as he did.

Sirius cleared his throat and smiled as winningly as he could. "No, headmaster. I have no idea what we're doing here." If that smile worked on McGonagall, it would work on anyone.

Dumbledore chuckled and Remus rolled his eyes. "Me neither, sir. But I have a feeling it has something to do with Harry."

"Why do you say that?" Dumbledore asked, stirring a spoon in his tea. When he removed his hand to clear a spot on his desk, the spoon kept on stirring, looking like it was going to accomplish its task with or without the headmaster's help.

"Well, it's only logical. After all, the only connection either of us have at the moment to Hogwarts _is_ Harry," Remus explained. "And with Sirius being Harry's guardian, I think it highly likely that Harry's been getting in trouble-"

"No, that's not it," Sirius interrupted. When Remus raised an eyebrow (a talent that Sirius, unable to raise one eyebrow without the other shooting up, found very annoying) Sirius shrugged. "Harry's gotten himself in lots of trouble in his two years here, especially with that dragon thingy of his. But when he does, Minerva just owls me. Harry would have to get in a lot of trouble to warrant a parent-teacher conference. And I haven't been to one of those since last month, when he _accidentally_ enchanted the mermaid in the prefects' bathroom to laugh at the boys taking their baths. A level-A prank, if I do say so myself."

"Something that you know from experience, Sirius?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and Sirius blushed. "Both of you are correct, in your own ways. However, what I'm about to tell you," and his voice went very solemn, "goes no further than this room. Is that understood?" The two friends nodded, slightly frightened of what Dumbledore was going to tell them.

Dumbledore turned and looked passed them, to the door. "You can come in now, Harry."

The door opened and a very serious-looking eight-year old walked in. His face was still very youthful, very smooth to the touch, and tanned from the days outside. Jet black strings of hair, silky soft, fluttering in its wrecked state and looked like he'd never seen a comb in his life, yet the look suited him. His black robes clung to his body, still too small for any normal student of the school, and his bright green eyes scanned the room, worry tinting its color and adding swirling shades that captured the mind.

At his shoulder was a thin but elegant golden dragon, clawing onto his shoulders. Its body was covered in small horns, making it look like a prickly gold string.

Harry smiled tightly at his guardians but kept his eyes averted, like he'd done something horribly wrong. Dumbledore smiled comfortingly at the young lad, but there was worry in his eyes as well.

"Harry, how are you?" Remus asked, breaking the thin tension in the room. "I was at your last Quidditch match. You should learn to let the snitch run about a little longer, at least long enough for someone to score points!"

Harry grinned, stroking his dragon. "I tried, really," he protested playfully. "But everyone was going too slow."

"But you showed those Hufflepuffs," Sirius retorted, pulling his face back in a show of disgust. "I suppose they deserve it, keeping you off the team this year."

"They only thought they had a better seeker," Harry replied. "But, yea, they deserved it." His eyes clouded momentarily, as though he was remembering something before focusing again.

"So you still haven't lost a game yet?" Remus asked and Harry shook his head. "That has to be a record-"

"Yea, another trophy!" Sirius sighed tragically. "Soon, I'll be kicked out of the house with all those trophies of yours Harry: youngest student, youngest seeker-- _best_ seeker-"

Harry grinned again but it looked strained. He never did like popularity, and talk of trophies brought bad memories. He had been in Hogwarts for over two years now, and was in his seventh year. It was already November. Time went too fast for Harry to enjoy.

In his two years, he'd developed a reputation in Hogwarts and also across the wizarding world, but not only because of his 'Boy Who Lived' status. He _was_ the youngest student ever, the youngest seeker as well. And his non-house status only enriched everything else, for in all the time Harry had spent at school, he had yet to truly be called a member of any of the four houses.

Instead, the young wizard was shipped around like a treasured possession. Every month was spent in a different house, among different friends and with a different Quidditch team. At first, the idea looked doomed to fail, but as the other students got used to the idea, they interacted not only with Harry but also with each other. His friends were their friends, and while rivalries were still there, the infamous hatred between houses had been muted down to a controllable dislike between hardheaded students.

The other students had also grown accustomed to having such a youngster in class with them, especially when he showed his more mischievous side. They no longer cared how young he was, no longer felt jealous of how smart he was; Harry was their friend and that was it.

His dragon, still unnamed, had become his icon, and some of the first years had been told the legend that Harry was a member of a house all his own.

Harry toyed with one of his dragon's wings, still trying to shake off the bad feeling that had come when McGonagall first told him the headmaster wanted to see him. His guardians' presence wasn't helping much. He absently counted down his time spent here; eight years. Eight years, stuck in a body that was too small for him, but one that he'd become used to; enclosed in a school that was so like his own, but was not; shared between friends almost as good as Ron and Hermione, as the twins and Ginny, but who weren't. No friends could be as close as those he once had, those he had already given up for lost. His memories of his own Hogwarts time was fading quickly, but he could still remember the comfort his school gave after the oppressiveness of the Dursleys. On the edge of his memory, however, his Hogwarts gave him a sense of worry he couldn't remember the reason for. 

"Take a seat, Harry," Dumbledore directed kindly, drawing Harry back to his new reality and away from the old. "Now, I'm sure all of you are wondering why you are here. I've come to a discovery, an answer to a question that has bothered me greatly. But first, Harry needs to give you two an explanation."

"Excuse me?" Sirius asked. Harry paled.

"There is an important thing about Harry that neither of you know, but you deserve to know now." Dumbledore glanced at Harry. "I'm sure Harry knows what I'm talking about."

Harry gulped and looked down at his shoes. What, tell them who he was? That was crazy! They wouldn't believe him, and if they did, they'd hate him! Sirius would-

"Harry." Dumbledore's voice was still kind but there was a ring of force beneath the kindness.

Sighing in defeat, Harry looked up into his guardians' eyes. "Um... well, hehe, I've got a new story to tell you!" he began nervously. Dumbledore looked like he was about to say something but Harry pushed on. "Ok, there once was a kid. He, um, he came to Hogwarts and everything. He was magical, a pretty good student, pretty good Quidditch player, too. And he was in his fifth year."

"Harry, where's this going?" Remus asked.

"I'm getting there." Harry took a deep breath, shoving some hair away from his eyes but it came back anyway. "So, um, one day he was in potions. And something accidentally happened, and he got sent back to the past. The potion he drank also made him a little kid, so no one knew he wasn't supposed to be there."

"Harry?"

Harry refused to look up into his godfather's eyes. "And everything worked out fine, actually. Nothing bad happened, and some really good things happened. Better things than what was supposed to happen. And this kid was really happy, and he loves his godfather a lot and hopes no one's too mad at him."

"Harry," Sirius got over to Harry's hair, looking at the little kid in the eyes. "Harry, what are you saying?"

"Headmaster, that's not possible is it?" Remus asked, panic in his voice. "Time travel, there are laws to that. You can only go back a few hours, a day at the most."

"You are correct, Remus. Harry most certainly did not travel back in time." Harry looked up in surprise, and Sirius caught sight of the dread in his eyes. "No, it is not as simple as that." Dumbledore sighed and took a drink of his tea, leaving the room in suspense.

"You see, Harry has not traveled across time; he has traveled across a universe."

"What?" Sirius' harsh exclamation made Harry wince. "Universe? What do you mean?"

"This Harry belongs to another universe, another dimension if you will." Dumbledore took another sip of his tea and eyed the adults critically. "If you'll take a seat..."

"Now, this is an extreme shock for you, and you do not yet know the many details involved in this. I am not surprised by your outbursts, but I ask that you keep them controllable."

Sirius barely heard him, eyes glued to the child he'd always thought to be somewhat strange, somewhat unusual, but not along the lines he'd just heard. He noticed that there was tears in Harry's eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't acted as he had. The boy was still his godchild, even if Harry was from another dimension.

"Now that you know the truth, I advise all of you to take a breath before I continue on with this discussion." Dumbledore picked up a small tray from his desk. "Sour gummy worms, anyone?" Everyone shook their heads. "Very well. I'd like to ask you a question, Harry."

Harry looked up, confused.

"When, exactly, did you reach this dimension?"

"I-I think it was just as I was born, sir." Harry blushed. "I just remember being stuck in a small body, with lots of noise and not being able to speak other than cries."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I had thought so."

"Wait!" Sirius suddenly leaped up and stared at Harry, gaping. "I-I remember now! It all makes sense now, doesn't it, Remus?" The werewolf nodded, sudden enlightenment in his eyes.

"Yes, it does Sirius," Dumbledore agreed. At Harry's confused look, the old man went on. "I was there for your birth, Harry. Your powers in the womb so astonished me that I had to be there, because if I felt them, Voldemort did as well. And when you were born..."

"Stillborn," Remus added after a moment of silence, an expression of awe on his face. "You came out without a sound. Lily was heartbroken."

"But then you sort of jumped, and started breathing. Made a lot of noise for a few minutes before going quiet again. James always joked around saying that you couldn't decide whether you were coming or going." Sirius smiled at the memory.

"I knew that moment you had died, Harry," Dumbledore continued gravely. "But your return to life has always baffled me. When you explained what happened a few years ago, it helped me in my search and at last I have found an answer. Your timing, Harry, was impeccable. You entered your other's body just as it died."

Harry was staring wide-eyed at everyone. "I-I killed him, didn't I?" No one understood so he said, "If I hadn't come, the other me wouldn't have died, would he?"

"What?" Remus wrinkled his forehead. "You haven't killed anyone."

"Yes I did," Harry exclaimed shrilly. "I killed Cedric, and I killed myself here! I probably shoved his out so that I could go somewhere!"

"Harry, you most certainly didn't kill yourself," Dumbledore answered solidly. "And as for Cedric, your story tells me that you did everything to save him. You are not responsible for anyone's death."

"Cedric?" Remus shrugged at Sirius' look and mouthed 'Other universe.' "Ah..."

"So, what you're saying is that Harry accidentally drank a wrong potion in his fifth year and got sent here, and has, all this time, been able to understand everything we've ever said or done?" Sirius went pale. "All this time?"

"No wonder you were able to use James' wand so quickly," Remus added. "And all those tricks and spells; James probably already taught you them before we did."

Harry smiled sadly. "My world isn't the same as this one," he whispered, refusing to comment more on the subject when Sirius questioned him.

"However much fun as it has been, having you in this world Harry, you belong back in your own world." Dumbledore ignored the shocked expressions on the three's faces as he called over his shoulder, "Severus, could you come in?"

Snape stumbled in, looked as shocked as the others did. He stared at Harry. "No wonder you knew all the answers-"

"Severus has been working on a potion," Dumbledore explained. "And now it is finished."

"Potion?" Harry dreaded the answer.

"Yes. You are going back to your own world, Harry. You can't remain here any longer."

"But-"

Dumbledore raised a hand, silencing the three. "There cannot be any exceptions to this rule. If Harry were injured here, what would happen to his own world? No, the balance must be kept and Harry must go back."

"But sir," Snape, of all people, started. "Potter is the only one who has stood against Voldemort! When Voldemort arises again-"

"Harry has already told me what has happened, and the only way Voldemort can come again is with Harry's blood." Everyone looked to Harry, who went pale. "From what Harry has told me, I can not only prevent the Chamber of Secrets from being opened-"

"Chamber of Secrets!" Remus' eyes went wide.

"I can also capture Voldemort when he tries to sneak into the castle in two years with the help of a traitorous teacher."

"Snape!" Sirius jumped up. "What will you do!"

Harry burst out laughing, despite himself. He started laughing so hard that he ended up on the floor, clutching at his belly. Sirius' cheeks went pink and Remus snorted with amusement. Dumbledore smiled but said, "Severus has my complete trust, and he would never betray that trust. No, there is another teacher, one I would never suspect."

Dumbledore's eyes clouded over a moment but then they shined brightly at Snape. "The potion, please?"

In Snape's hands was a bubbling vial, smoke trailing in the air above it. Harry stared at it apprehensively.

"You must take this, Harry," the headmaster urged. "From my research and resources, this will send you back to your normal existence."

"What if it send me to another place," Harry whispered back.

Dumbledore smiled and handed Harry a sheet of parchment. "This is a list and a recipe for the potion. If anything goes wrong, then explain to me again and we'll try again. Is that alright?"

"Harry," Sirius scooped him up in his arms, crying. "I don't want you to leave... but I can't make you stay. What would James say if he found his son missing? And I'm sure that the me over there misses you like crazy. I can't deny you to your parents; I'm sure they're much better than I am. "

"Sirius!" Harry awkwardly hugged back. "You're the best parent I've ever had!" He grinned. "Seriously."

Remus chuckled at that, then grabbed Harry up. "I'm sure that your parents are much better than I am," he murmured gruffly, tears on his face as well. "A werewolf isn't much of anything-"

"You're the best werewolf I've ever met!" Harry defended.

Remus ruffled his hair. "That's because I'm the only one," but he looked happier.

"It's not like I'm going to be gone forever," Harry shook his head. "Like I could do that. I'd miss you too much." He looked at the parchment in his hands. "I'll just test this real quick, than go to find Neville and make him tell me what he put in the original potion. Then I can come back and visit. If you don't mind, headmaster."

"No, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "I could not imagine a world without the illustrious Harry Potter. Though you must explain to me, the me in your world, first before you go."

"Of course," Harry chirped, then turned gravely to face his potions master.

Snape shoved the potion at Harry, but looked slightly... whatever he looked. Harry managed to smile. "And I have to come back and take my potions final, anyway. If my Professor finds out that I skipped your test, he'll send me back here just to make sure I fail both of the finals."

Snape nodded briskly. "At least I am not so changed, in your world."

Harry hugged Sirius again. "I'll be back before you notice," he promised and took a gulp, draining the vial. He barely had time to acknowledge Sirius' drawn face before he felt himself falling again. Falling, without a thing to help him get up...

*

"Mister Longbottom, _what did you put in that potion!_"

"W-what you told me to, s-sir-"

"I-"

"Professor! He's back!" Hermione exclaimed brightly, interrupting Snape's torture of Neville. And indeed he was; looking rather pale, perhaps a little worse for wear, but Harry Potter was returned back to the land of the visible. And his worried friends immediately swallowed him up.

"Harry! Where were you? What happened?" Hermione sobbed, clinging to his neck.

Ron, who seemed to be glowing with anger, stopped his glaring at Snape to give his best friend an unbelieving look. "You were gone, Harry," he whispered. "Just... gone! No one knew where you were, not even Snape. He nearly killed Neville, trying to figure out what happened."

"It figures," Draco drawled. "Potter probably agreed to take the potion to get more attention. Harry winced before he remembered. The Harry-hunting was back on, full speed. At Draco's comment, half the class turned away with disgust quickly replacing their previous concern.

"How long was I gone?" Harry wondered. It couldn't have been eight years, but he could remember each year spent in that alternate universe with startling accuracy.

"Just a few minutes," Seamus assured him, having settled with being Harry's ally for the moment.

"A few minutes?" Hermione turned to face the boy, anger radiating from her face. "He was gone for nearly five minutes!"

"Hermione, that really _is_ only a few minutes," Ron urged but she ignored him.

"I can scream if I want to, Ronald Weasley! Harry was gone! He could've stayed gone forever and-"

"Miss Granger, I suggest that you return to your seat," Snape's cold voice informed her, and he was suddenly standing over the small group huddled by Harry. "As with the rest of you. Potter, go and inform the headmaster that you've return, then get back to my class."

Harry rubbed his head, getting to his feet with shaky legs. "I don't think I can make it," he admitted after a moment of trying to keep the world from spinning. "I don't think I can even make it from this class." His voice stopped as he fell over in a dead faint.

*

"Headmaster, I insist that there is something wrong with him."

Harry groaned lightly as he awoke. Was there always someone talking about him? Whoever it was didn't hear him, because the conversation continued. 

"Poppy, I understand your concern but you said yourself that there was no visible signs of damage-"

"I changed my mind!"

Harry blinked his eyes open, Madam Pomfrey? He must be in the hospital wing. And that was Dumbledore. Did the potion work? He tried to move and found that there truly was nothing wrong with him. Nothing hurt, nothing required his attention. The only thing wrong that he could tell was the sleepiness clouding his brain, but that was only because he had been asleep. How long had he been asleep, anyway?

"No wizard can heal that fast!" Pomfrey was saying. "And no one can come back, after disappearing for five minutes, with more magical power than he left with!"

Harry got to his feet, glad that the nauseous feeling that had accompanied his dimension hop (as he decided to call it) was gone. "Professor?" he called out.

The drapes around his bed were pulled back immediately and Harry was faced with the nurse's worried face. "Up already? No you don't--get back in bed this instance! Mister Potter!"

"Professor!" Harry looked over the nurse's head, catching Dumbledore's eye. And with that look, Harry knew he'd come home.

"Well, Harry, you've given us quite a scare," Dumbledore assured him gently. "Are you alright?"

Harry nodded, unable to keep from staring. This was his Dumbledore, one that he hadn't seen in eight years. And now that he saw him, Harry could pick out the differences from his Dumbledore and the other one, differences he hadn't seen before, like the wrinkles that were missing from his Dumbledore's face, and the look of warning that the other Dumbledore hadn't had.

Without a reason, Harry broke out in a huge grin. Dumbledore's eyes widened and Harry remembered how down he'd been before going to the other place, how depressed he'd seemed. The thought only made his smile wider. "It's good to be back, sir."

"Back?" Dumbledore couldn't help smiling back at Harry, a look of relief on his face. "Can I ask where you've been?"

"I don't know," Harry lied. "But wherever it was, it's helped me get better." Adding that statement would assure that Dumbledore didn't ask too many questions.

"If you're fine, then get out," Poppy stated. "I would like you to stay another day, but since you seem to be so certain of your wellness, I can do nothing else. But don't come crying to me when you don't feel better later on"

"Thanks!" Harry leaped up, quickly hugging the nurse, before rushing out of the wing.

"Oh my," Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the look on the nurse's face. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere?"

"No one's ever thanked me before," Poppy muttered to herself, tears in her eyes. "Except you, headmaster; oh, what a child he is!" She wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, going slightly red. "Oh, I'm sorry headmaster. No, no I can finish this... what were we talking about?"

"Harry's magical power."

"Oh yes. Well, um, right." She cleared her throat again and regained her previous, no-nonsense look. "As I was saying, Harry's powers have increased."

"Perhaps it is a growth spurt-"

Poppy shook her head. "No. Every witch or wizard is born with a certain amount of power, and that power can't increase. You can only increase your skill or knowledge. Oh sure, there are exceptions: magical devices to increase your strength, certain spells that do the same temporarily. But Harry, he's just disappeared and reappeared with a magical increase! As if he wasn't powerful enough!"

"How large is this increase?" Dumbledore frowned, staring at the door Harry had rushed through a moment before.

"Nothing too incredible or off the scales, but any increase is news."

"Hmm. Well, there is nothing we can do about it, and there certainly is no harm with this. Why don't we just let the matter be."

Poppy sighed. "All right, headmaster."

*

"So Harry, what in the world happened?" Ginny asked during lunch, meeting him in their usual hiding place. Harry had almost forgotten to go--it was something he'd come up with to escape from tormenters during lunch. The others would be here soon. "Everyone's talking about you leaving, then coming back and going straight to the hospital wing. Did something happen?"

Harry smiled, giving Ginny a shock. For the past few weeks of school, smiles had avoided Harry at all costs. "Yea, but if I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone else."

'Be still my beating heart.' "Of course, Harry," Ginny promised, heart in her throat at seeing that smile being given to her, and her alone.

Harry leaned back against the wall. They were in a small room, hidden behind Sir Cadogan's portrait. The knight had always been telling students that there was a room behind him, but the only way in was through him. When Harry had taken up the challenge, the knight had been so overcome by the fact that someone took the time to talk to him that he'd swung right open.

Almost carelessly, Harry related his eight years as a child again to Ginny, whose eyes seemed to widen beyond ability. "Wow," she muttered when he finished. "And I thought I had a good day."

They couldn't say anything more because Sir Cadogan's voice could be heard, barking out insults before he swung open to admit Ron and Hermione into the room.

Ginny could almost die with the joy of knowing something that no one else knew when Harry casually avoided the questions, redirecting each back to something else like, "Oh, nothing happened. But what happened when I was gone?" Soon, the four sat in relative quiet, Harry eating his lunch with a smile and the other three watching him with confused but happy smiles.

"I'm off," Harry announced suddenly, finished with his meal.

"Where to?" Hermione squinted up at him, trying to analyze him. "You know what'll happen if any Slytherins catch you alone."

"Like you really need to remind him," Ron huffed but Ginny saw Harry pale just a little as memory hit him. Ron took an oblivious bit from his sandwich before glancing up. "You want us to come with you?"

Harry shook his head, an uncertain smile on his face. "No, I'm just going to find Neville and ask him what he put in his potion." At Hermione's looked, he quickly added, "I really want to know what happened. Maybe I can get Dumbledore to find out, but he'll need the original potion."

"I'll come," Ginny volunteered. "Harry can't go out by himself." Besides, she added to himself, he's forgotten everything that's happened. It's been eight years to him, just a morning to us. He'll probably start joking around with some second year and _then_ what will happen?

Harry gave her a look and nodded, making the other two look much more at ease. "All right. But we better hurry--I don't want Neville to forget."

"And please remind me," he whispered to Ginny once they were out the room. "Is Neville one of those who hate me?"

"Hate you? No, he's too scared of you to hate you. To him, you rank right up there with Snape and You-Know-Who." Ginny giggled at the expression on his face, his good mood reflecting back to her. "Are you going to go back?"

Harry nodded. "I promised them that I would, remember?"

Ginny sighed. "This is amazing. Next time, let me come with you, alright?"

She felt his eyes on her and he nodded slowly. "I'll take you. Maybe not next time, because it might not be safe. Voldemort's still out there, and I don't want anyone getting hurt."

"You'd get hurt," Ginny pointed out.

"Well, what do we have here?"

Both looked back sharply to see some Slytherin girl, leaning lazily against a wall. "The redhead and the murderer." She stood up and started walking towards them. "Where's your gang, murderer?"

"Back off," Ginny warned, pulling out her wand. Harry watched the scene with mute surprise, then as though he was trying to remember something. "We haven't done anything to you."

"So?" the girl shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything."

Ginny grit her teeth and thought of the most likely hex when Harry suddenly walked up to the girl, a smile on his face. "Hi, I can't seem to remember your name what was it again?"

The girl's friends appeared from nowhere, circling Harry and separating him from Ginny. She smiled nastily. "It's Monica, murderer."

"Monica, Monica," Harry tilted his head to the side with a soft frown on his face, not at all worried about the enclosing Slytherin pack. "That's a hard one. Monica."

"A hard one what?"

"How's this: Monica, bo bonica. Fo fe, fi, fo, fonica, Monica!" Harry recited in a singsong voice. The Slytherins paused to stare at him. "No, how about this!" He reached his wand in time and pointed it at the girl. "_Petrificus Totalus._"

She hadn't even time to shout when she fell over, hitting the ground hard. Harry spun and sent a curse at another, making her fall over and start retching slugs. Two others were hit with the jelly-legs curse, and another fell with the tickling charm.

Harry eyed his work critically before turning back to Ginny. "Let's go before someone finds them."

"T-they're going to tell!" Ginny huffed as she ran alongside Harry. "When they get all that stuff off of them--bloody cool, by the way."

"The only way I got to do that was because they didn't expect me to fight back," Harry relied modestly. "I just remembered how they'd always expect me to just stand there like an idiot."

"You used to."

Harry nodded but kept running until they reached the Gryffindor tower. "Diggory," he whispered painfully and the Fat Lady moved aside to let him in. Originally, the password had been "Merlin's Uncle's Beard," but when the Gryffindors turned on Harry, the password had changed to bring about the greatest pain possible.

Entering the common room, Harry spotted Neville right away. "Neville!" he called out with a huge smile plastered on his face. The boy in question gave a whimper and started off for the dorms. Harry's smile dimmed. "No, wait! Neville!"

"Leave the boy alone, Potter," Angelina bit out. "You made his life difficult enough."

"And exactly how did I do that, huh?" Harry turned around and shot back angrily, losing his patience with the angry looks and harsh comments that had been flung at him all day. He vaguely wondered how he ever thought he deserved such things.

Angelina and everyone else in the room took a step back in surprise. This wasn't the Harry they'd come to expect since school started. This Harry was as alive as he'd ever been, not the dark, depressed little kid they'd grown used to. "Harry?"

"Thank you!" Harry breathed out, throwing his arms in the air. "Thanks for calling me by my name, not Potter, Seeker, murderer-"

"Harry, you might want to get Neville," Ginny whispered as the frightened teen tried to sneak out.

Harry whirled and caught Neville's arm. "I'm not going to bite your head off, Neville," Harry started slowly. "I just need to ask you a question."

"Neville, please just listen to him," Ginny pleaded, holding Neville's hand. "He's not going to get mad, and you know Harry! He's your friend, you don't need to be scared."

Neville was doubly pale but shivered and looked up into Harry's eyes.

"Alright, I just need to know what you put in that potion," Harry said calmly. Neville gulped. "I'm not mad or anything, it's just that I really need to know, ok?"

The rest of the room watched in quiet suspicion as Neville stuttered out the ingredients. Harry sighed as he realized that they were exactly what Snape told the students to mix together. "B-but I think that I-I put them in wrong," Neville finished, looking slightly more confident. "I-I put the g-goat's tooth after the egg shell. And the powdered lizard claw before the owl feather. And-"

"Great!" Harry smiled. "Can you write down exactly what you did, so that I don't forget?" Neville nodded and immediately searched out for a quill and parchment. "As for the rest of you," Harry went on, turning to glare at the room. "I've just spent eight years-"

Ginny coughed.

"I-I mean, five years here at Hogwarts," he recovered smoothly with a wince. "I thought that you'd know me enough to know what I'm not a murderer, or a dark wizard, or responsible for Cedric's death. I feel just as bad as you do but I'm not going to let you take it out on me anymore. Try, and I'll forget that you were my friends just as quickly as you forgot I was yours."

He held out his hand and summoned his broom. "If you need me, I'll be out flying." And he left.

*

"It's amazing," Minerva was telling her fellow professors as Severus walked into the teachers' lounge, looking for a spare bit to eat. "I wouldn't be able to recognize him if he hadn't been walking with my team, talking about Quidditch. You've all seen how quickly he's changed. Just a day."

The other professors were nodded enthusiastically and Severus felt that he should drop everything and simply run when they all looked over to him.

That feeling magnified an unaccountable number when Minerva let out a squeal and rushed up to hug him.

Severus' eyes bulged and the only reason he didn't spin the woman on her heels and curse her was because she was squeezing him too hard. "Can't... breath..."

"Severus, whatever you did worked! I didn't even know you were worried about him, but you helped him!" She was too busy muttering and blubbering that she didn't hear Severus, or else she just plain chose to ignore him. Probably the latter.

"Woman!" Severus managed to snake out of grip and leaned against a chair, breathing heavily and clutching at his robes. "Do not, under any circumstances, touch me!"

"Oh, I can't thank you enough," Minerva ignored him again, and went on for a few minutes on how great a potions master he was, how successful he was about hiding his real feelings, and how grateful everyone was to him.

When she paused to get a breath, Severus, still fixing his disordered robes, stopped to give her a look. "What are you talking about?" he snapped angrily, brushing Minerva's dead skin cells (he was too dignified to say "cooties") off of him.

"Why, Harry Potter, of course," Minerva answered as though it was clear as day.

"What?"

"He's gotten out of his depression," Filius answered, voice high as ever. It must come with being short. The Charms professor waved his arms about excitedly. "Harry's actually participating in class, and when one of your students started teasing him, he came right back. He's not letting anyone pushing him around anymore. And," he added sheepishly, "while I'm not encouraging fights... well, it's much better than when he just sat there and ignored everything."

"I think the rest of us agree," Annie Sinistra put in as she stirred her tea. She sipped at it thoughtfully. "He's not been in my class yet, but I've seen the change simply by walking in the halls. Everyone has."

"Though not everyone likes it," Michelle Sprout voiced in a humored tone. "Particularly the Slytherins-"

"I hope that you're not making an insult against my house," Severus suddenly commented, voice low and dangerous. Michelle flushed; she'd forgotten that the potion master was even there.

"Of course not," Minerva answered calmly. "We are merely stating the facts. You know all about the rivalry between our houses, Severus."

Severus let his cold black eyes remain on Michelle several more moments, letting his promise of revenge sink in, before he nodded briskly and turned away, heading to the small cooling department in the back of the room that held several cold sandwiches, his absolute favorites. Michelle let out a loud sigh of relief.

"I wonder what's brought this around," Liana Vector wondered aloud. "I sincerely doubt that you, Severus, truthfully sought out a way to help Harry. It doesn't calculate."

"Few things do to one so drenched in useless numbers and equations," Severus responded coolly. "Your mind becomes awash with symbols and make-believe numbers that anything unable to be mathematically proven is surely an impossibility to your mind. You've forgotten that this world is full of magic, which is anything but stable and proven." His paused and blinked lazily, elegantly if such a thing was possible. "But, no, I had nothing to do with Potter's sudden return to life," he bit out distastefully. "If anything, I would have prevented such a thing."

"Severus!" Minerva looked furious and Liana looked on the verge of tears.

"It's true," he returned with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Now, the boy will become full of himself again, and will take back his habit of trouble making and thievery."

"You know that Harry didn't steal anything of yours," Minerva shouted angrily but Severus slammed his fist down onto the table, turning back to the other teachers with his infamous temper.

"I know no such thing!" he bellowed. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and clutching awkwardly at his left arm. "And I will not so simply excuse the boy from his pranks and infractions. Potter has broken more rules in his time here than his parents ever did."

He glared at the room in general and grabbed his sandwich, starting to the door and ignoring the cold feeling that come over him as the other professors hurriedly made way for him. "Good day."

Minerva, holding her ground to the end, grabbed his arm and jumped back in surprise when he let out a hiss of... pain? "Severus, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," was the short reply, and his robes billowed after him. 'Nothing, if the Dark Lord's callings can be called such; if he's constant torture can be called such; if his undying corruption can be called such. There was nothing wrong. Nothing at all.'

Severus bit back a cry of pain as his arm burned. 'Not again.'

*

"See, I told you," Pansy whispered and Draco watched with grim amusement as Harry walked down the hall, alone at last. "He's going somewhere, just like's he's been going for the past two nights."

"Very good, Pansy," Draco murmured, watching the idiotic girl swell up with pride. Then he turned his attention back to the prey at hand. "Well, Mr. Potter, it seems that you've become too cocky for your own good. Go get him," he commanded to his two body guards, Crabbe and Goyle. "And make sure he doesn't make too much noise. The last thing we need is a teacher to come down here."

The two boys nodded, dumbly as everything else they did, and walked towards the distracted Gryffindor in what they must have thought was a very sneaky manner. In truth, though, the two looked more like fattened pigs trying to sneak up on a stag.

A shimmer caught Draco's attention and he quickly motioned for the two to stop, leaning forward from the shadows to catch whatever Potter held in his hands. He blinked. "Is that what I think it is?"

Pansy leaned forward and blinked herself. "A string?"

Harry, however, didn't seem to be the least bit bothered by the fact that he was walking the ground of Hogwarts with only a string for comfort. The boy was as thick as Draco's cronies were; hadn't the last two weeks taught him anything?

"What's he doing?" Pansy whispered and Draco, too busy to get angry at her questioning, shrugged truthfully.

Harry looked around and Draco swore the Gryffindor saw the Slytherins sneaking up on him before he took a seat in one of the stone windowsills, playing with the golden piece of string in his fingers. Draco waited a few moments before giving Crabbe and Goyle and quick nod and the two started forward again.

"He's wand's out," Blaise informed politely, playing the lookout position given to her. Draco again made the stopping motion and the two heavy boys looked exasperated, pausing again. Idiots. Didn't they know that Potter would be able to signal for help if he saw they coming?

Pansy whispered her question again and this time Draco glared at her, making her back up into the shadows with a whimper. With his father being the right hand of Voldemort, Draco enjoyed the highest position in the Slytherin body, a position of power that he often abused. And abused gladly.

"Watch him," Draco murmured to Malcolm, who nodded and took up a position beside Blaise. Draco sneaked a look to Potter and dropped to his knees, crawling from shadow to shadow until he was within body length of the distracted boy.

Harry turned the string over and over in his hands, muttering under his breath. Draco slowly made for his wand, a dozen dark magic hexes flowing through his mind. But he stopped again and watched in fascination as Harry, loath as Draco was to admit it, did something amazing:

With a few more encouraging words, the string in Harry's hands twisted and turned, flexing out its knots and wriggling free of the boy's hands to float an inch above Harry's palms. Draco's breath caught in awe as four legs shot out and the string turned again, freeing two long wings to the air. One end stretched out, turning into a tail, while the other formed itself into a smooth skull. Harry whispered and raised a hand above the string, as though he was encouraging the sudden mutations and as his fingers passed over it, the string popped out dozens of horns, long and twisting and elegant. The skull snapped open its jaws and bit out at the air, taking a few shaky breaths. Talons grew long from its legs, and its wings twisted into four separate parts, each protected by curving spike.

And a dragon was born.

As long as Harry's arm, the spiky thing looked menacing enough, snapping indignantly at the air. Draco was frozen as Harry's face broke out into a huge grin and he stroked the dragon's chin. "Welcome back," the Gryffindor murmured. The dragon purred.

Snapping from his awe, Draco took a quick look at the situation and decided that Harry was as vulnerable as he'd ever be and he waved a hand. Crabbe and Goyle advanced.

The dragon stiffened and let out a small growl, stretching its wings out and taking flight. Harry sat up quickly, looking around.

Draco swore and motioned again. All the Slytherins moved forward.

The dragon let out a surprising loud roar and flung its small body at the closest Slytherin, Crabbe, and Harry, realizing what was going on, took off. Draco jumped from his position, tackling the Gryffindor with a grunt.

"Malfoy," Harry bit out as he struggled. Malfoy grinned viciously. "Let me go."

"No," the Slytherin replied evenly, grunting again when Harry kneed his chest. A shrill cry above was the only warning Draco had before the golden dragon jumped into the fight, apparently having ditched the other Slytherins in favor of immediately defending its master. Draco jumped back, letting go of Harry who leaped up and took off. The dragon scratched him vengefully before taking high to the air, out of reach.

"After him!" Draco shouted, pointing at Harry's retreating figure. He didn't have to; the others were already going.

"Are you ok?" Pansy asked, the only one to stop and help Draco to his feet.

He pulled his arm back angrily, glaring at her. "What are you doing? I said after him!"

"I thought you might be hurt-"

"Go!" Draco ran off, leaving Pansy to stare a moment in shock before chasing after him. They quickly reached the others and Harry wasn't far ahead, disappearing in the shadows before reappearing by the light of the moon through the window. The Gryffindor turned a corner and disappeared, giving Draco time to wipe at the light scratches on his face. His fingers came back with blood tinting the pale digits. Draco cursed and then ignored his wounds.

They turned the corner and saw Harry, not too far ahead, stopping to pull out a piece of paper from somewhere, studying it intently. When he saw them catching up, he took off again, disappearing in the shadows to reappear. Disappearing, reappearing, disappearing, reappearing, disappearing, re-

He was gone.

The Slytherins stopped short. All they saw was Harry running into a dark shadow and a glimmer of silver before... nothing.

"Well?" Draco asked. "Where is he?"

"I-I don't know," Malcolm answered, as confused as the rest of them.

"He couldn't have gotten far," Blaise reasoned. "He might just be hiding in the shadows."

Draco nodded and they took off again, reaching the last place they'd seen Harry. The area between on window and the next wasn't much, but the suits of armor might be enough to provide a hiding place. Draco grinned again, thinking his enemy caught. What a stupid prat Potter must be, thinking to hide in such an obvious place-

His thoughts were cut short when one of the arms moved, the helmet clattering to the floor. All the Slytherins jumped, suddenly remembering the rules of wandering about the castle at night.

"Who did that?" Draco hissed. The questioned answered itself when, a moment later, Mrs. Norris stuck her furry head from behind the suit, watching them with hateful eyes.

Pansy cursed and they all took a step back. "Mrs. Norris!" she whispered fearfully, her eyes scanning the area. "That means-"

"Ickle students out at night?" a ghastly voice called out as Peeves materialized from behind the suit. Mrs. Norris glared at the ghost; she must've been chasing Peeves before catching the group chasing after Potter. Peeves grinned nastily, floating high in the air. "Ickle Slyhties, out for a night stroll? Naughty"

"You'd better keep your mouth shut," Draco suddenly stepped forward. Peeves paused to watch the pale Slytherin, light streams of blood streaming down his face, with interest. "I doubt that the Bloody Baron would enjoy you squealing on his house."

Peeves paused and looked ready to run but Draco didn't even have time to thank his lucky stars when another voice whispered from right behind him, "Fifth years out of bed? And threatening Peeves? Yes, the headmaster would like to hear about this."

Draco turned around slowly to see Filch, rubbing his hands together in glee.

*

"Awk!"

"Shh!" Harry shushed from beneath the invisibility cloak. "You'll get us caught!"

The dragon didn't seem to particularly care, as it let out another of its noises, stretching its wings out happily. And Harry couldn't blame it. With his friend back, life was almost back to normal.

He couldn't believe how stupid he was. He'd _felt_ someone, or several someones, around when he got to the window. He'd known they were there, but he'd gotten too used to being friends with Slytherins to really feel threatened by them anymore. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered to himself, and the dragon settled onto his shoulders for comfort.

It worked and Harry smiled. It was his own luck--and several intensive hours spent at the library--that let him not only recreate a dragon, but recreate _his_ dragon. If anyone asked, he wouldn't be able to explain it. The dragon "crawk"ed and Harry smiled wider, stroking its ticklish spot between its two front horns.

"Let's see if I can clean up the mess of a place I left here," he muttered softly and walked down the halls, back to the Gryffindor common room.

*

"Hey, you. Get up."

Harry was roughly shoved at and in response he groaned and kicked out a leg. He heard a muffled yelp and smiled sleepily, rolling over to catch a few more minutes of sleep. From beside his head, he could hear the small dragon yawning and beginning to stretch its forearms and wings. One ruffled Harry head, catching onto some hair and yanking the black strands.

Harry yelped, leaping up and hitting his head on the roof-like tops over his bed. He accidentally dragged the creature with him, and it came up screaming as well.

Beyond the drapes of his bed came the sounds of muffled curses and hurried footsteps. Someone was complaining and someone else--the person who'd tried to wake Harry up in the first place--was back at it, reaching through the drapes to shake his shoulder. "Harry, you alright?"

"Just perfect," came the sardonic reply as Harry lifted his hands to his tangled hair, pulling the entangled dragon wing from his black tresses. The dragon let out an undignified squeak, much louder than its first noises. This time, everyone in the room could hear it. There were more mutterings and the beds around the room creaked as their owners jumped up and headed for Harry.

The drapes were fully pulled back and Harry blinked in surprise a moment as a fuzzy, redheaded shape came into view surrounded by several other bobbing orbs. Another moment went by before Harry recognized with a start Ron Weasley staring back at him and his other male Gryffindors as well. Before he could make a fool of himself, however, Harry remembered his return back to this dimension and the day before, where the world had barely moved during his eight years in the other world.

The boys were gaping at Harry in shock. He stumbled about and grabbed his glasses, blinking as everything suddenly came into focus, and fixed them all with a shape look. "What's the matter?"

Wordlessly, Ron lifted a shaking finger to point at the dragon that had taken up space to preen at its scales on Harry's shoulder.

"Oh! You mean this little guy?" The boys nodded, mouths still hanging open like fish. The dragon gave another squawk and tried to wrestle out of Harry's hands. He thought quickly and figured he might as well just tell the truth. "Well, you see, I found him last night." A version of the truth, anyway.

"Found him?" Ron repeated incredulously. 

Harry nodded proudly. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have some privacy. I was trying to sleep."

"Where'd you find him?" Dean Thomas asked hurriedly even as Neville whispered in a horrified tone: "It could be dangerous! Why'd you bring it in here? And in your bed of all places!"

"It hasn't hurt me yet," Harry pointed out hotly. "I think it likes me." As if to prove his statement, the little dragon snapped at Harry's fingers when they got too close.

"Oh yea. I can see the love there," Ron muttered sarcastically. He ran a hand through his red hair. "Blimey, Harry, sometimes you're so stupid even I'm surprised."

"Stupid?" Harry shot back, faking a shocked voice. He grinned brightly at the boys, making them all take a step back in surprise. "Jeez, what nice friends you are."

"Harry, are you alright?" Seamus asked, repeating the earlier question with doubt written across his face.

Harry let out an exasperated breath and motioned with his hands. "Yes, yes. I already told you I'm fine. Now will you all get out of my bed?"

"I think there's something with the dragon," Dean was whispering to a grave Neville. "He's acting very strange."

"Reckon we better tell Dumbledore?" Neville asked in reply.

Ron shook his head but before Harry could feel thankful for his friend's confidence, the redhead whispered, "Nah, we better get Madam Pomfrey first. It might be something serious."

"Right," Seamus took a step back. "I'll go get her. McGonagall, too." The boy disappeared down to the common room and the three turned back to the boy in question to see Harry glaring at them, arms folded across his chest.

"I'm not a little kid," he started, but got the strangest look on his face and burst out laughing. "Oh man, I can actually say it now!" he managed to say between great gaps of laughter.

Ron, Neville, and Dean all exchanged worried glances and took a unanimous step back. They weren't the only ones Harry's behavior was bothering: the little dragon was being shaken from its spot at his shoulders and in retaliation, it sank its talons into Harry's skin.

"Ow!" Harry winced and stopped moving but a great grin was still on his face. "Knock it off." He swatted at the dragon and it took an angry lift to the air, flying out from the draped bed. The three other boys ducked with scared cries but the golden daemon flew right over them, going up to land on a dresser across the room.

Harry yawned, stretching out wide and collapsing back on the bed. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Wha?--oh man!" Ron moaned. "I was going to tell you: we're late for breakfast!"

"What?"

"Yea, I was trying to wake you up when all this happened-"

Harry let out another sigh and groggily got out of bed. He brushed his fingers through his hair and went to the stand his dragon was perched, waving it away to grab some clothes. It curled up, spiking out its horns, and Harry drew his hand back quickly, scowling at the little thing. "Don't start with me this early," he warned, shaking a finger at the arrogant creature. "I've had to put up with you as a kid; I'm not going to put up with it any longer."

When it showed no signs of moving, Harry's threatening voice quickly turned to a plea: "Oh, come on now! Be reasonable. If I'm not there for breakfast, how will you get anything to eat? You know the house elves are plain frightened of you; please just let me get dressed."

"Harry?" Ron cautiously moved towards his best friend while the other two shook their heads in utter bewilderment.

The dragon snorted once but finally moved and Harry let out a happy cry. "Thanks! I'll get you something good, I promise. Sausage, or something." He dug into his clothing, pulling out a simple outfit and glancing over in surprise to see the other Gryffindors just watching him. "Aren't you guys hungry?"

"Um-"

Harry waved Dean off with a frown. "Just hurry up and get dressed unless you're planning on modeling the latest pair of guys' night gowns." They blushed and went to do as Harry said.

All four were just getting down into the common room when Seamus rushed in, panting, followed by a distracted-looking Pomfrey and an absolutely frightened McGonagall. Several girls were there as well, and almost all of them screamed when Harry waltzed in, his dragon soaring little spirals above his head.

"Oh, bugger," Ron heard the usually (at least, considering the last two weeks of school) quiet Gryffindor swear as the two adults fixed a look on Harry.

"Students, leave," McGonagall barked, moving away from the portrait. Most didn't argue; her voice left no tone for complaint. "Now!" she screamed at the few hesitant and even Ron left in a hurry. The teacher turned to the nurse. "Poppy?"

Pomfrey took a deep breath then shook her head. "I can't feel anything," she admitted. "But it could be a delayed spell, or something that I can't tune into or-"

"Or I could just be acting like this because I'm happy," Harry interrupted with annoyance in his voice. His dragon swooped down from its morning stretch to land on Harry's shoulder.

"Is that so?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Then what is that, that _thing_?"

"It's just my dragon," Harry replied defensively, rubbing the area between the dragon's eyes. It purred and settled down, letting the two adults come nearer.

"You're dragon?" McGonagall lifted an eyebrow at Poppy, plainly saying 'Dark magic.' She turned back to Harry and, in a patronizing voice, asked, "Can we see that thing for a moment, Mr. Potter?"

Harry grinned and cheerfully handed the protesting dragon over. The other McGonagall couldn't change it back, so this one wouldn't be able to either. And he was right: try as she might (and she certainly looked like she was exerting herself) McGonagall could only stare as the little thing nipped at her hands.

"You might want to be careful," Harry advised. "He doesn't take well to strangers."

"I think we might need to contact the headmaster, Minerva," Pomfrey started nervously as sweat began to roll down McGonagall's forehead.

"I'm already here," Dumbledore announced, stepping through the swinging portrait. He clapped his hands once and the dragon froze in midair, floating out of McGonagall's hands and towards the old wizard.

"Thank you, Albus," McGonagall huffed, wiping her forehead.

Dumbledore studied the petrified creature then turned his wise old stare at Harry, who suddenly felt that _now_ was the time for Quidditch. "Harry, would you care to explain?"

"Uh... explain what, sir?" Harry asked, grinning and hoping against hope that the smile would distract the headmaster from any personal questions. For a second he thought it worked. Dumbledore blinked in the face of a still-surprising smile but Harry's hope vanished as Dumbledore cleared his throat warningly.

"I can sense you magic here, Harry," the headmaster informed him. "It seems that you are sustaining this creature's life. I would like to know exactly how you managed to do so, when such magic is beyond your level."

"Uh, well," Harry rubbed the back of his neck and let out a nervous bit of laughter. "There's a real funny story behind that, sir-"

"Harry."

"Yea, well. You see-"

Hermione suddenly burst through the portrait, flying across the room and landing in a big heap at Harry's feet. "I-I taught him the spell, Professor!" she huffed, breathing hard. "I-I got it f-from the library and-"

"Slow down Miss Granger." Pomfrey's forehead wrinkling in concern. "Good heavens. Did you run all the way here just to tell us that?" Hermione nodded wordlessly from the floor, hands clutched to her stomach.

Dumbledore looked from the gasping Hermione to the astounded Harry for a moment more before all seriousness disappeared from his face, dissolving into a smile. "Splendid! It's good to see students trying to get the best out of their education." He clapped his hands and the dragon was released, snarling at the air before nearly falling in shock at being let go. "Now that this mystery is solved, why don't we all go down and have something to eat? I'd say that the other students are hungry enough without having to wait for us to be there."

McGonagall was eyeing the two Gryffindors suspiciously but muttered to herself, "It does make sense," before walking out the door behind the headmaster, Pomfrey following her.

"Hermione, are you insane?" Harry exploded once the portrait shut. He hurriedly helped her to her feet, picking up her spilled books. "Lying to a professor, the head of your house no less? And to the headmaster?" He grinned. "Are you planning to become another trouble maker or what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes but let him help her up. "For your information, Harry, I was waiting in the Great Hall for you when Ron came in, swearing that you were about to be expelled. As soon as he told me what happened, I recognized the spell that you used as something I read out of a familiar book. It is your familiar, right?"

"F-familiar?" Harry's mouth dropped open.

"Yes, the being that you use to store your magic in and that also exemplifies how strong you are." She took a deep breath and launched out a dictionary explanation. "A familiar is usually a magical beast but in the last few centuries, only a few creatures have chosen to become a witch or wizard's familiar, for the beast must chose to become such or no bond can be made. A familiar not only stores a person's energy, but it also strengthens the person's magical force, boosting the person to higher power levels-"

"I know what a familiar is," Harry hastily interrupted her.

He expected her to look angry at the least for being interrupted, but instead she got a somewhat victorious look in her eyes. "I knew it!" she declared, backing him into a wall. "Something _did_ happen! I mean, at first, I just had my suspicions but now--before, you didn't have a clue what a familiar is. In fact, only a few people in the entire school had taken the time to find out anything about something so ancient and all of them are in Ravenclaw. But now you know what a familiar is and--oh Harry, what aren't you telling us?"

Harry grinned uncertainly, backing up until his legs hit the edge of a common room couch. "I-uh, I have no idea what you're talking about Hermione-"

"Don't lie to me!"

"Hermione! Harry! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast!"

Harry let out a relieved sigh at the sound of Ron's voice and grabbed Hermione's arm, thankful for the distraction. "Breakfast, Hermione!"

"I'm not deaf," she complained but hurried along as well.

*

Harry rolled his eyes to the sky with all the weight of a tortured soul. Except that he couldn't see the sky; all he saw was the dusty, rank looking ceiling of the Potions classroom. Why, oh why did he ever want to come back to this? In the other place, he only had a few weeks until the end of the year, and he'd have graduated and been done with Snape forever. But now...

"Mr. Potter, I suggest that you pay attention," Snape snapped (*snort*) from the front of the class. The rest of the room chuckled, albeit uneasily at seeing Harry being chastised. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to fail this year's class right now."

Three more year! Three more years of this, this-

Harry rolled his eyes again and sighed heavily, sitting up straight in his seat. Ron and Hermione, glad to be back at his side, were sitting in the table next to him and were both constantly casting him anxious looks. Harry had to grin at that, or at least he _would _have to if Snape didn't let out some snide comment every time he smiled, like "Is something funny, Mr. Potter?"

The only good thing about this class was the _unlimited potential for trouble!_ Snape was going to assign him a detention by the end of class, anyway; might as well make it worth it.

Harry slowly spread his books across the table, grateful that today's class was only notes instead of any real potion making. Malfoy usually sat beside him but was absent today, hiding in the hospital wing. Harry thought of the night before and smirked. Those scratches weren't going to leave anytime soon. His books slid across the smooth surface soundlessly and soon the entire space was full, successfully blocking Snape's immediate sight of Harry's mischief.

Careful to keep his expression blank, Harry reached a hand into his robes and poked his left chest pocket. It rumbled. He poked it again. It stirred and a golden wing lazily came into view, swatting at his fingers. Harry frowned and poked the pocket again, more viciously. This time, he got a response as the dragon's long neck craned into view, looking annoyed.

"Come on," he urged, opening the pocket more to lift the sleepy dragon out. "You've got enough sleep for a lifetime; time to do something about all that fat, eh?" It snapped at him semi-angrily and shook awake. Harry quickly glanced up and saw Snape lecturing on about something Harry had already learned about, unaware of Harry's activities.

The dragon stretched out fully from behind the books, but its wings were too long to be hidden; they tipped into sight like golden sails. Harry tried to squish them down but was rewarded with a poked thumb.

"Ouch!"

He glanced around and breathed out when he saw no one paying any attention, then glared at the innocent-looking dragon. "That hurt!" It opened its mouth to protest but Harry, on pain of a pricked pinky, shut the jaw. "No, shhh. Quiet. You don't want Snape to hear you, now do you? Remember the last time he caught you in class? You had to stay outside for a week."

It's lips curled back in a snarl, letting its fangs come out and poke Harry's fingers. He winced and drew his hand back. "Stop that!"

The dragon curled its wings down and stared intently at Harry, who couldn't help from grinning evilly. Checking to see that no one was paying attention, Harry leaned down and whispered some instructions into the little thing's ear.

The dragon hopped to the ground and slid against the floor, folding its wings up so it moved like a snake across the cold bricks. Snape lectured on tonelessly and the class snoozed and dozed off, unaware of the future show. It stopped several times, getting distracted by some candy in a student's bag or seeing something that absolutely had to be chewed, but eventually made its way to the front of the class, narrowly dodging a tragic fate of stomping when a Slytherin started tapping his feet to some unknown beat.

With a flutter, the dragon slipped into the air, flying up the Snape's desk just beyond view. Then, with a cackle befitting a witch (and one that served like an alarm clock to the class) it spread its wings out wide...

*Crack* went the pot of a green, oozy liquid.

*Splat* went the bottle of foul-smelling fungus.

*Fizzle* *Pop* *Snap* went the mugs of some unknown pink substance, rumored to glow in the dark.

The flask of dye slammed into the floor. The jug of mystic water splattered into the wall. Several glasses of nectar, a goblet of elixir, a beaker of tonic: all came crashing down. For a moment, the noise was deafening. All that was heard was the crashing, the bashing, and the falling apart of any and every container on the table.

For a moment, all anyone could do was stare.

Then the dragon hopped into the air again and took off like the devil, slamming into the door and high-tailing it out of there. At the back of the room, Harry smiled.

It felt good to be back.


	6. 5

****

** Dimension Wander **

By Tvillinger

****

Chapter Five -- Returning... Home? Which home is home?

Lucky for Harry, Snape had no idea what happened. He was in as much shock as the rest of the class. For many a minute, the potions master stared in stunned silence, watching his precious fluids drip and drain away, halted to a stop as the last of his bottles balanced precariously on the edge and fell down, adding to the rubble. For many a minute, Snape gaped, expression of a fish.

Then, he attacked.

"WHO DID THIS?!" he roared, and the class collectively gulped and cowered as his rage came upon them. Well, not upon them. Upon one individual--the only individual in the class that seemed totally at ease. "POTTER!"

"I didn't do anything, sir," Harry replied with mock politeness.

Snape's eyes narrowed to tiny slits and his nostrils flared. Harry was certain foam was rising, ready to start lathering the professor's angrily twisted mouth. "DON'T LIE TO ME, POTTER!" he shouted, pouncing up the classroom to reach Harry's seat. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Again, Harry repeated his claim to innocence. "I think you should talk to Filch," he added with the same toned innocence. "Maybe there's an animal problem."

Snape took several heaving breaths, obviously trying to control himself, and his hands twitched as if they wanted nothing more than to ring Harry's neck. Harry pressed his lips together and dug his nails into his hands to keep from laughing out, to keep from letting his façade of innocence slip away. Of course, later that evening at dinner, his innocence would be contested by the fact that the little dragon would be sitting on his shoulder but whatever...

Snape leaned forward and spat out, "If I ever catch word that you did this, Potter, I'll take enough points away from your house that _years_ won't bring them back." Then he glared one final death glare and stiffly stormed back to the front of the room to assess the damage, anger radiating off his like heat waves.

The bell rang and still fighting laughter, Harry tromped outside. As soon as he was free from the dungeons, he let out a whoop of laughter, the sound ringing down the halls. His classmates, all frozen and pale with fear, watched his with wide-eyed, fearful expressions.

He was still laughing, clutching at his sides, when the golden dragon flew down from a hidden perch and recklessly flung itself at him. It snapped out its happiness in low, growling tones.

"That was good, admit it," Harry pressed to his passing classmates. Most averted their eyes, shocked by the sudden change in the boy, and passed by. Some, however, cracked a smile full of awe.

"Y-you?" Ron asked, voice unsteady.

Harry shook his head and held out his arm for the dragon to catch onto.

"What's that, Harry?" Lavender asked, straying close to Harry to get a closer look at the dragon. The other Gryffindors repeated the same questioned. Hermione and Ron, standing beside him, jumped back when the dragon's wings bloomed out.

"It's my dragon," Harry answered, repeating the statement given earlier that day. Hermione watched Harry's happy face with a wary, calculating glance that belied her future questions about the real origin of the dragon--and its connections to what she had begun to suspect as a story Harry was hiding.

All of the fifth-year Gryffindors--particularly the ones who weren't _too_ nice to Harry in the first two weeks of school--found that not only had Harry changed, breaking free of his depression, but he'd also forgotten their meanness in record speed. It was as though the first two weeks of school hadn't happened and he was willing to forget everything they'd said. The group of Gryffindors walked down to their next class with a cheerfulness that had been absent since the start of the term.

Defense against the Dark Arts was being taught by a woman this year, but when she had noticed Harry's strange quietness matched with his overwhelming ease with the Defense classes, she'd booted him up a level with the sixth-years, meaning that Harry (quite unfortunately) had to drop Divination. He parted ways with his friends and headed outside, bored to death of his free hour and trying to remember exactly what he used to do during this time.

"Ah," his breath hitched as he remembered. "That's right. I hid."

A group of Slytherins, the same that had tried to torment him the day before, led by that Monica girl, tromped down the halls but paused cautiously when he passed. He smiled and waved then kept going. His dragon, however, sensing the hate that was streaming from the Slytherins, raised its hackles and growled at them.

"Stop that," Harry chided, lightly tapping the dragon's head.

Footsteps echoed the halls, the rushing steps of late students or the trotting sounds of hurrying professors. Harry walked around silently, reaching the doors to go outside and left the castles and its echoes.

As soon as it scented the fresh air, the dragon took off with a whooping screech. It rose gracefully, effortlessly spiraling and diving and showing off flying skills, taunting Harry. Harry snorted then summoned his broom and took off after the dragon. But as he rose, a loud bark caught his attention.

Harry's head whipped around, bright green eyes searching with a maddening hurry. There! Coming up the path around the lake was a huge black dog, its tail wagging as it caught sight of Harry. Harry's mouth dropped open at the dirtiness of its coat, the haggard limp of its trot, and the missing vitality he had grown accustomed to, but there was no doubt as to who it was.

"Sirius!" Harry yelled with a great grin, dropping back to the ground and leaving his broom aside, running up to meet the dog. The sound of its name halted it somewhat, sharply reminded Harry that Sirius couldn't be addressed as such anymore. Vainly, he searched his mind for memories, tearing apart those of this dimension and those of the other, trying to separate two different memories of his godfather.

The dog limped up, still wagging its tail, and put its head into Harry's hand when they reached, sniffing wildly and tackling his godson. Harry laughed and pulled Sirius down with him, rolling over and over in the grass, memories of their wrestling bouncing in his brain--but those memories weren't of this Sirius, he reminded himself sharply. Laughing, Harry grabbed some grass and threw it into the great dog's eyes, making it sneeze in surprise and let up on its attack. Harry kicked to his feet and began to run, laughing and being chased down by a black blur at his feet.

High above, the golden dragon recognized the dog for what it was and sounded out a hello call.

Sirius froze and looked up. Harry looked up and mentally groaned. "Come here," he coaxed, rubbing his hands in the still-startling limp hair. "I've got to talk to you." The dog whined in concern but Harry smiled back and pressured his godfather along.

They walked back along the trail around the lake, skirting into the Forbidden Forest. Sirius barked out in alarm but Harry reassured him and pulled him along. In the other dimension, he had once been dared to spend the night in the forest and would've refused had not the whole of Slytherin been against him. During the night, however, a company of unicorns had awakened and played with him, sensing little beyond the childish body. They eventually led him to a grove of trees, a protective space the unicorns left their young, allowing him to sleep with them. Now, he hoped the same spot existed in this dimension and he led his doggish godfather along the familiar path towards the grove.

Sirius whined again, bumping against Harry's leg. The teen laughed and scratched Sirius' ears. "Don't worry," he repeated. "I've been here before."

The trail he pushed through the trees eventually broke and Harry let out a breath of wonder even as he recognized the area.

White, ice-like trees grew, setting a glow to the area as clean as the unicorn young that lay around, resting. Their ears twitched as Harry grew closer and one let out a shrill of alarm.

"Shh," Harry hushed, quickly stepping over and touching the unicorn in a reassuring measure. It stiffened and played dead under the embrace but eventually calmed and even opened its pearly gray eyes to take Harry's appearance in. Reassured by its calm, the other unicorn young bashfully stumbled over to Harry, sniffing him over with their nibbling lips that tickled. They trampled over to Sirius and did the same, obviously sensing a disruption in his smell.

"You can change back now, Sirius," Harry advised. "They won't be scared."

The dog warily watched the small horns beginning to grow out of the horse-like animals' foreheads but changed back. Where there had once been a dog, now a scraggy-looking man stayed. Harry drew in a deep, horrified breath and quickly looked away, unwilling to continue looking to the skin-and-bones image his godfather had been reduced to, horrified beyond words at the differences between the two men he knew under the same name.

Sirius was too awed to notice his godson's sudden start, gently lifting a hand to pet the unicorns, never having been so close to them. They neighed quietly, settling around the two humans with a comforting ease, sensing on Harry a faint but still visible touch where their kind had previously accepted him.

Sirius gulped and looked over to his godson, amazed beyond words. "H-how did you find this place, Harry?"

Harry mentally winced at the dragging dryness of his godfather's voice, a tone belying harsh difficulties. "Um, I, uh... stumbled... across it?" he offered hopefully, green eyes going up to Sirius' tempest-tossed face and trying to hide what he was feeling.

Sirius watched him oddly, clearly able to tell his godson was lying. "Stumbled across it?" he repeated. "As in, you just happened to be walking in the Forbidden Forests one day and saw this place?" Harry pressed his lips together as he saw the man's line of thought. "Well then, that's perfectly acceptable Harry--except for the fact that the Forbidden Forests are forbidden!"

Harry summoned up a weak smile and shrugged. "Well, it's a good things I found this place, huh? Who knows what might have happened?"

Sirius sucked in a deep breath, going pale. "What might have happened? By Merlin, Harry, don't you think things through? Do you have any idea what lives in here, how dangerous this place is? There could be a group of Death Eaters walking around, ready to stumble across you!"

Harry rolled his eyes but Sirius caught the motion and froze, instantly aware of how greatly Harry was suddenly acting like James--the expression on the teen's face was a mirror-image of James at the same age, caught in a similar situation as he was once caught sneaking out at night. The similarity blew away Sirius' mind.

Harry leaned back and absently stroked one unicorn's side, reveling in the way its lungs rose and fell beneath his fingers. "It's not like I'm trying to get killed, Sirius," Harry replied after a pause. "It's just that... things are never so bad that I can't have some fun, you know? I don't want to... to waste my life worrying about Voldemort when I could be playing with my friends or just lying down with some unicorns." 

Sirius laughed at that and rolled to his side, looking at the group of unicorns gathered around them. "Not a lot of people can say they did this, can they?" Sirius asked, unable to keep angry when his best friend was shining through his godson.

Harry laughed with him and shook his head in amusement. "I guess not."

Sirius watched Harry and let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. "I don't know Harry," he said, voice painfully honest. "I don't know if anything will ever be easy for you. I know you want to have fun, but you're not a normal kid."

"Don't," Harry whispered.

"You're special," Sirius went on. "And everyone know that. Some people will love you for it, some people will hate you for it. But you can't escape it. I know you like playing with your friends, but I'm afraid this war's going to force you to grow up." He let out a trembling breath. "Soon, you and everyone you know are going to be called to chose a side and fight for it." He looked into his godson's green eyes and finished sadly. "When that happens, everything's going to change."

They lay in silence for a time, the only sounds the sound of a unicorn shifting, a leaf falling, and the winds gently playing the trees.

As Harry's fingers curled in the unicorn's mane, a sliver of sound interrupted the silence. Wings beat against the air and savagely tore through the trees as a deep-throated call familiarly called Harry to attention. The teen groaned and sat up, disturbing the unicorn's slumber and it neighed unhappily.

"What's that?" Sirius asked, getting up as well. His question was answered when, a moment later, a golden shimmer held the air trapped, the dragon squawking irately and settling down on one of the pearly-white trees, gold clashing with the silvery glow.

Sirius nearly jumped to his feet in alarm but Harry chuckled. "That," he pointed, "is my dragon." Being mention, the dragon took to flight again, spiraling down to dive against Harry. The unicorns got to their feet and neighed with annoyance but were ignored as the dragon stopped short of Harry and clutched to his arm, tail wrapping around it.

"You're... dragon?"

Harry nodded and held out his arm. "Here, you want to hold it?" Sirius took a half step back with the dragon opened its mouth in a lazy yawn, revealing gleaming fangs. "Don't worry, it already knows you."

Suspicious, Sirius reached out and the dragon obediently crawled across to cling onto Sirius' skin. Harry rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "It's not fair," he voiced with playful anger. "He listens to you but not to me."

"What?" Baffled, Sirius watched as the dragon continued crawling, settling on a perch next to his head. "Where did you get it?"

"Uh," Harry smiled brightly and shrugged, raising one of Sirius' eyebrows. "A secret?"

"Harry?" Sirius growled warningly but Harry merely laughed and stretched. The laughter brought to Sirius' attention a great change that he hadn't paid attention to: Harry wasn't sad or withdrawn anymore. He'd have noticed sooner, but generally Harry was always happy whenever his godfather was around. The only difference Sirius had noticed in the past two weeks was that people complained to Sirius of Harry's depression. And Harry hadn't laughed since school started.

The dragon purred against his neck. "How's Remus?" Harry asked, stretching his arms up and stifling a yawn.

And Sirius was touched by the hugeness of Harry's heart. He'd only known the boy for the lesser part of two years, yet Harry never acted like the time spent apart dampened the friendship between godfather and godson; he instead acted like Sirius had always been there, like Sirius was someone he immediately trusted. And that trust was more than he deserved. "R-Remus?" Sirius choked out when Harry eyed him with concern. "H-he's fine."

Harry smiled wickedly, looking exactly like James. "Is he still hanging out with Veronica?"

The question jarred Sirius. His brows drew up in confusion. "Hanging out with who?" And the question had a profound effect on his godson.

Harry froze and his eyes blinked. "Veronica," he repeated. "The girl he's been... dating..." His green eyes clouded up and he looked around like he was lost before being jerked back to reality by a throaty growl from the dragon. He smiled again but looked strained. "I, uh, never mind. I had this weird dream and must have confused it or something."

Sirius' face blanked out in astonishment. "You had a dream?" he pressed. Dumbledore had said something about Harry and dreams.

Harry mentally winced again and inhaled deeply before sending the air back out. He looked up and jumped in surprise. "Oh no, what time is it?"

"Harry, what about that dream?" Sirius frowned but Harry was saying goodbye to the frolicking unicorns.

"I have class now!" he busted out. The dragon unattached itself and flew behind Harry as the teen took off running. "I'll talk to you later, Sirius," he called out, waving a hand absently.

"Oh no you don't," Sirius muttered, quickly transforming to a dog and taking after his godson.

Harry breathed hard but not because he was exerted. The realization his him exactly what had happened. He'd confused the two dimensions. What if it happened again! During class-

The thought hit him like a brick wall and he stumbled briefly before catching himself, understanding now the depths of a fact that had occurred to him during potions: he already knew all the things being taught at Hogwarts! What would the professors think, if he suddenly held a knowledge of every lesson, every note? Swallowing, his mind raced to find a solution to the problem before something happened.

He ran up the path and paused to grab his broom but a cry from his dragon alerted him to a presence just before he was knocked over. "Sirius!" he neatly shouted. "Get off! I'm already late!" But the great black dog showed no signs of letting up as it started to drag him towards the castle. Annoyed, Harry crossed his arms over his chest and let the beast drag him, silently plotting revenge for bitten robes and grass-stained jeans.

*

"Where in the world is Mr. Potter?" McGonagall fussed, glancing once again to the classroom clock. The rest of her students, angelically on time, fidgeted in their seats, whispering quiet conversations that they believed she didn't hear. "Mr. Weasley, I told you once to keep quiet," she scolded angrily, whipping her gaze back to the class. Ron, caught leaning out of his chair to whisper to Dean, blushed red to the tips and scooted back into his seat to the hushed giggles of the rest.

Annoyance crept onto her face and she rolled her eyes skyward. "Well then, we'll just have to start without him-"

"There he is, professor! One girl screeched from her seat by the window. Her eyes were wide with panic and she began to scream. Of course, the rest of the class hastened over to join her and everyone felt a wave of panic, save for the two who felt more than a wave. At the sight of Sirius, dragging an irritated Harry around by the literal scruff of his collar, Ron and Hermione shared a look and bolted for the door.

McGonagall didn't even see them, too shocked by the sight of a massive black dog apparently attacking one of her students. One girl cried out, "The Grim! The Grim's come to take away his soul!" and the class disrupted into madness.

"Quiet down, quiet down!" the professor hollered but her cries went unheard. She frowned and drew out her wand with a bang that sent everyone ducking for cover. "Get back to your seats, all of you!"

The girl by the window looked around and screamed again, pointing to two empty seats. "It's got Ron and Hermione!" she screamed, shaking and white as a ghost. "It's going after Harry, and taking his friends with him!"

McGonagall snorted. "Nonsense, they probably ran out." Her lips pinched together as she thought up a punishment for such behavior. "Stay in your seats, all of you!" She strode over to her fire and called out, "Professor Vector, can you come here?"

After a moment, the dusty professor pushed her way through the fireplace and blinked. McGonagall pointed. "Watch them!" And then she ran out of the room.

Professor Vector blinked again, a look of confusion on her face. When she turned and asked the class what happened, the answers she picked out indicated that a huge Grim had taken Harry Potter out of the castle kicking and screaming, probably to eat the poor boy, and to make matters worse Potter's two best friends had disappeared as well.

"Well," she bit her lip, "I'm sure Professor McGonagall will take care of it." The class watched her stupidly and she sighed. "While you're here, why don't I try and teach you something." She waved her wand and conjured up a parchment on each desk with a smile. "Who can tell me about numbers?"

*

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, running around and trying to locate the lost friend. "Harry!"

"Where was he heading?" Ron questioned, running beside her. Hermione shrugged helplessly and Ron bit back a curse. "If anyone finds Snuffles..." They both gulped and wondered what was so important that Sirius jeopardized his very life, coming into the castle for.

A scuffling sound presently reached their ears, along with an angry argument:

"No, I'm not going to tell you the password! I don't even know it this year!"

*Growl*

"Don't look at me like that. Besides, I'm _supposed_ to be in class right now, remember?"

*Squawk*

*Growl*

*Squawk*

Annoyed sigh. "Don't you go joining him, too."

Ron and Hermione crashed around a corner to see Harry, arms still folded at his chest, glaring defiantly at the floor but his glare was off, as though he was too busy thinking to glare properly. Picking at his shoulder was the weird dragon and, crouched before Harry in a menacing pose that even sent them into pause was the huge black dog, one paw on Harry's chest. They breathed a sigh of relief and hurried towards the rankled teen sitting before a gargoyle statue.

Harry looked up at the sound of their steps and smiled, rolling his eyes and pointing to Sirius. "Can you believe him? Stealing me right out of class! I can't wait to think up an excuse to give McGonagall when she comes around-"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Potter." The students whirled to see their professor, huffing slightly with her hair in disarray, pointing a wand straight towards Sirius. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, step out of the way."

"But-"

"_Step out of the way!_" Hermione and Ron meekly complied, leaving Sirius vulnerable to attack.

"Wait, you don't understand," Harry protested but McGonagall's wand was poised and he knew she'd attack Sirius within seconds.

But she didn't.

McGonagall looked up in stark surprise to see the funny little dragon from this morning flying above her, wand clutched in its talons. Harry heaved and shoved Sirius off, getting up and wiping the dust from his robes, frowning with exasperation at the grass stains he knew would be there. He turned on Sirius. "Bad dog! Look what you did!" He held out his stained robed and shook them before the black dog. "Now I'll have to go buy new ones."

But beneath his scolding was a tone of amusement the dog caught onto and its tail began to wag.

"See, professor," Harry explained to the frozen woman. "This is actually my dog. Uh, Re-Professor Lupin sent it to me." He smiled charmingly, knowing all the ways to get around her anger. "As a protection."

"Protection?" McGonagall grabbed at the wand the dragon lowered to her. "From what, class?"

Harry chuckled nervously, pulling at his shirt. "Uh... yea?"

McGonagall snorted but all sense of tension drained. Ron and Hermione, chilled to see their professor so ready to attack, relaxed and Hermione's mind worked at the speed of light, adding new information to a critically forming understanding of Harry's change. "You already have a pet, Harry--two, in fact. And a dog that size will cause a panic among the students. You can take it to the headmaster but he won't let you-"

The gargoyle suddenly leaped away and Harry, who had been unconsciously leaning onto the wall, fell to the floor with an "oof!'

Professor Dumbledore certainly looked surprise to find Harry crumpled at his feet. He stepped back and Harry groggily got up. The dog barked and Harry playfully smacked its snout. "Don't laugh at me."

Blinking, the headmaster took in the situation and then cleared his throat. "Harry, why don't you come up to my office? Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, you're welcome to join us."

McGonagall shook her head but announced that she had a class to teach and walked off, but her departure didn't help the tension that rose when Dumbledore watched Sirius climb with a disapproving eye.

Once the group was settled and had properly refused any offered sweets, Dumbledore looked over to the dog that sat, limp on the floor. "Sirius, why don't you join us?" Unwillingly, the animagus resumed his human shape. Dumbledore noted the tense expression on Harry's face at the sight of his godfather with some puzzlement but filed the fact away for later use. "Now, why don't you tell me what's happened?" Fawkes, sitting in the corner, opened his eyes and watched them before dismissing the group and slipping back to sleep.

Harry looked up with a faint smile at the twinkle in his headmaster's eyes. "Sir, it's all Sirius' fault."

The blank accusation stopped everyone in the room and Harry smothered a fit of laughter. Mockingly angry, he pointed an accusing finger towards the apprehensive godfather. "He tackled me down to the ground and stained my pants." To the silence that met his statement, Harry pulled out his leg and pointed to the glaring green on the bottom of his jeans. "See?"

"I... see," Dumbledore's face looked as puzzled as the rest but then he caught the hint of amusement in Harry's brilliant green eyes and smiled on, catching the joke. "Sirius, what do you have to say for yourself?"

The animagus blinked and his head slightly drew back as everyone turned to look at him. "Sorry?"

Harry's face lit into a smile then, and Sirius breathed out a sigh of relief, reminding Harry yet again that this godfather was not the carefree, jokingly mad one he'd become accustomed to. Feeling guilty, Harry quickly related the hour's events, slightly twisting the story and completely avoiding all mention of the forest. Sirius raised and eyebrow and Dumbledore caught the expression.

"So," the wizened old wizard sat back in his seat. "You spent some time flying, then spent the rest of the time talking with Sirius?" Harry nodded eagerly. Above him, in lazy, distracting circles, the golden dragon croaked out a bit of laughter that only Harry recognized. It was going about, sniffing and examining the office, clawed hands clicking against the desk when it has walked along to examine Dumbledore. When he reached Fawkes, the phoenix woke again and eyed the strange lizard cautiously, snapping its beak when the dragon came too close. Gold and red sparked and the dragon leaped away. No one else gave thought to the occurrence.

The headmaster gave Harry a thoughtful expression, eyes casting back and forth between godfather and godson, knowing that the story rang false but trusting Sirius to break his silence if something important needed to be revealed. Apparently, Harry knew exactly what his headmaster was thinking because he smiled cheekily with an attitude positively spinning against his former disposition.

"Why was Sirius dragging you?" Hermione asked, intelligence flashing in her eyes as she also beheld the truth that Harry was deliberately hiding something. The information hurt and she hid that hurt behind a wall of ignorance. If he didn't want to tell her anything, she wouldn't bully him--at least not in other's presence. She'd get him alone and when she did...

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked to his godfather. "I don't know."

"Yes you do," Sirius countered in a parental manner. He turned to Dumbledore. "Harry's had a dream-"

Dumbledore's attention was hooked and Harry desperately tried to amend the situation, not wanting anyone else to know. His promise to the other Dumbledore forgotten, Harry only knew that if his secret was discovered, the two adults in this room would prohibit any more dimension hops.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked for an explanation through his eyes, burning bright blue.

Harry swallowed and attempted a shaky smile. "It wasn't really anything," he answered meekly. "Just a normal dream." Sirius' words unknowingly came back to haunt him: _You're not normal, Harry._ "It was actually really weird," he added when he saw Dumbledore unsatisfied. "Remus had a girlfriend named Veronica and Sirius had a dog exactly like him, so he didn't have to change anymore."

"Nothing else?"

"Not that I can remember," Harry answered evenly, though his conscience burned to lie to the wizard before him. Sensing his distress, his dragon curled back from his explorations of the room so similar to the one in a different dimension, returning to the teen. It snaked its tail around Harry's neck for balance as it sat on Harry's shoulders, taking a defensive stance against the rest of the room.

Out of everyone, only Ron easily accepted Harry's claim to ignorance, easily accepted Harry's change. He was the only one who didn't question--not because he felt none of the suspicions the others had. As the redhead sat, watching his best friend face down Dumbledore as though Harry was being formally tried and tested, Ron squished down the suspicions that had already troubled his heart. He knew there had to be a reason Harry suddenly changed, a reason why Harry had become so radically different, but if Harry didn't want to talk about it, Ron wasn't going to force him. 

It was because the redhead sensed something the others all sensed: Harry would soon be pushed to difficult times, and instead of questioning the past and supposedly future savior, Ron decided to put his full trust in Harry and let things be, decided to be firm in his friendship.

He watched, checking Hermione's face and reading it like the books she adored: she suspected something was up, like everyone else did, and she was determined to discover exactly what that was. Sirius was bewildered but not completely affected by the change in Harry, and Dumbledore was as unreadable as ever. Settling deeper into his chair, Ron silently let out a deep breath and watched his best friend, hoping his trust would be enough to see Harry through.

Dumbledore placed his hands on his chin, an utterly blank expression on his face. "Very well, Harry," he allowed. Harry fidgeted. "However, if you _do_ dream a dream of importance, you will come to me, yes?" The question was more a statement of fact and Harry tipped his head very slightly in agreement. "Now, I'm going to have to ask that you keep your dog," a twinkle of amusement brightened his face, "out of the range of students. I'll be able to convince the staff that Snuffles is trained and obedient."

He sighed and looked to Sirius. "If news gets out that Harry Potter suddenly has a black dog, a certain person will know exactly where that dog came from."

"Peter." Sirius' face darkened and twitched, fearful to look upon as his hate manifested itself. Dumbledore, however, didn't look to the adult; he looked to the again startled Harry.

Harry had gone very pale at the mention of the traitor. Inside his mind, he was experiencing the whiplash of again mixing two different dimensions. For what had seemed like the last eight years to him, Peter Pettigrew lie dead, having been killed several months after Voldemort's by Death Eaters who thought the rat responsible for the Dark Lord's downfall. Harry needn't ever had worried about him, just as he was never frightened about Sirius getting captured by Hit Wizards or Remus going without food or money. In that other dimension, Harry had lived without any worries.

Now, returned to this dimension, those worries slapped him upside the head in a continuous beating. First, he had been forced to remember the stark viciousness of the other students--even those he had once called friends. He had also been torn apart from his familiar, as Hermione had correctly named it, but both those problems had been easily solved.

It was the problems he couldn't easily solve that now hurt: Sirius' constant danger of capture and exposure, constant danger of death looming every second the animagus strayed from his safety to visit Harry. The fear that out there, his dad's friend and now his own friend was forced to face the struggle of survival alone, isolated by the fact that his blood labeled him a monster. Even the far off future showed trouble as he thought of the end of summer, of returning to careless and mean relatives who would rather his disappearance occur than have him return.

But of course, those personal problems (for that's what he considered them) were nothing compared to the worries he was faced with, worries that consumed the entire nation. The rebirth of a Dark Lord so vicious that years after his downfall, people refused to call him by his name, a rebirth that, with the blank denial of the ministry, could prove more disastrous than Voldemort's first rise to power. The disbelief of a community when warned, seeing only emptiness as they closed their eyes to the destruction about to befall them.

The mention of Peter's name brought back a thrashing of memories, all dark and unpleasant, memories and facts and suddenly, Sirius' conversation in the woods struck him hard. Harry swallowed as he completely realized that because his mother had sacrificed her life for his own, the wizarding world would expect him to once again cause the downfall of a dark tyrant. Once the full threat of Voldemort's rebirth came to public light, Harry could and would expect to become the focus of attention again, the object of pleas for mercy, pleas for help.

Harry closed his eyes painfully and let his mind whirl at the possibilities and with a sudden longing, he wanted to go back to his peaceful dimension where Sirius was free and Remus a big brother; where Voldemort was still less than a spirit, and was promised to stay that way; where he didn't need to bother with the turning of the world because he was still too young to the public eye; and where he could hide away from the madness that affected this dimension. Cowardly though it was, Harry wanted out.

"Harry?" Dumbledore's softly spoken voice caught the attention of the room and directed it to the now shaking teenager as he sat with clenched fists and closed eyes. Harry looked up and his eyes glistened, painful to look into, reflecting a world of unwanted comprehension. Dumbledore himself was momentarily taken back.

His dragon let out a mournful sigh and tightened its tail-hold on Harry's neck, just within the measure of choking. Curled around Harry's neck, the dragon dropped its defensive stance and curled on top of Harry, head dropping down onto one arm while legs hung down over his chest and back.

Harry forced a smile, bright as all his others and pushed the thoughts from his head. Later, he promised himself, thinking of where Neville would be and how willingly the boy would be to giving Harry the list and recipe for the failed potion. He could almost see himself: in less than an hour's time, Harry would have made the potion and be gone, off to visit his healthy godfather and to see his friends--friends that had never tormented him, that had, while sometimes unwillingly, accepted him. He would go back to being a child-teen with no responsibilities aside from having fun and enjoying himself.

"I'm all right," he heard himself reply, half of his mind planning out while the other half forced itself to stay attentive and veil-like over his true intentions. "Just a little tired."

"It is getting late," Dumbledore conceded. "You'll have missed the rest of your class and the better part of dinner by now." Ron groaned. "But I expect none of you to go hungry. A certain house elf is very concerned about you, Harry, and I fear he's taken up the belief that you no longer wish to be friends."

"Dobby?" Harry shot out, blinking in astonishment.

"Of course it's Dobby," Ron smiled at the thought of the feast that awaited him. "Or do you have other house elf friends we don't know about?"

"So, Sirius can't stay?" Harry asked sharply. "If Wormtail finds out, Voldemort will know. And if that happens, they might decide to just tell the Ministry."

"I think Sirius' present spot is safe enough," Dumbledore answered calmly. "However, you can't meet at the school anymore. Today's incident is proof enough. I think the students will be frightened to their wits, and I'm sure several parents will owl me later on, once they find out, about the school's safeties."

Harry nodded in understanding and stuffily got up to hug his godfather before leaving, feeling an odd sense of displacement. Would Sirius miss him, Harry wondered. Was it really fair to leave this Sirius, when he needed Harry so much at the moment? And what, a thought struck his mind, would the other Dumbledore say when he found out Harry had left, had so thoroughly abandoned his responsibilities to let the world alone to its own devices, without permission?

Time for that later, Harry convinced himself as his friends strayed to his side and filled the silence with teen chatter without noticing Harry's displaced responses. They headed towards the kitchens to grab some dinner and then, Harry would leave under false pretenses to find Neville. When he disappeared again, only Ginny had the slightest chance of knowing where he went. The dragon above him gleamed golden with energy, feeling its master's wish and chained to it as well.

*

The door shut, leaving Sirius and Dumbledore alone. Sirius collapsed completely onto the chair and, to Dumbledore's astonishment, started laughing. Deep belly laughs, laughs that sounded and filled the entire room, that shook the very chair the animagus sat upon. It took several moments for Sirius to calm down and even then, a bright smile remained on his lips, lips that had seen too few smiles.

Dumbledore calmly took a sip of his tea. "Did Harry slip you some Pepper-Up Potion?" he asked after a brief but comfortable silence.

That sent Sirius off again; minutes later, Sirius wiped away tears of mirth from his eyes but choked out, "No, but it was Harry."

"Hmm." Dumbledore nodded in slow understanding. "Something happened today, then, that he forgot to mention?"

Sirius, still beaming, leaned back against his chair again and roguishly threw his legs up on the other chairs. "He didn't spend nearly as much time flying as he said he did," Sirius answered honestly. "But... we spent awhile wrestling." The smile brightened and Sirius' eyes glazed over. "I always imagined wrestling with him, you know? Had planned it out since he was a baby. But then..."

Dumbledore said nothing, wisely remaining quiet while Sirius sorted out his thoughts again. "Wrestling?" the old man repeated, bringing Sirius back to the day's golden spot. Sirius nodded. "That is a thing I need to talk to you about."

Sensing the tone of seriousness, Sirius straightened up and put his legs back on the ground.

"For the past two weeks, you've been informed that Harry had fallen into a depression, and that in his state his classmates took advantage of him and tormented him in every way possible, using every emotional opening they could. Draco Malfoy was particularly vicious, the ringleader of the entire thing."

Sirius' fists clenched. "His father taught him well," he spat out angrily.

Dumbledore nodded, not verbally confirming or denying what was known fact. "And you know that, for the most part, Harry stayed passive, but only because he didn't care anymore. He felt that he deserved it. For that reason, you came. But now, as everyone can see, something has happened." He took another sip of his tea and motioned another cup to Sirius, who accepted the offering.

"Is it really a bad thing?" Sirius asked. "I mean, whatever happened, it's helped him get better-"

"Better and stronger," Dumbledore restated firmly. "Yesterday, Harry was sent to the hospital wing after an incident during Potions where he disappeared for several minutes before coming back."

"What?" Sirius exploded, nearly upsetting his cup of tea but succeeding in upsetting the wallowing phoenix. Fawkes turned a baleful eye towards Sirius but went ignored.

Calmly, as though the outbreak never occurred, Dumbledore went on. "Naturally, we were upset but discovered no means of Dark Art in the castle, no chink in the armor so to speak. Whatever happened was the sole result of a badly mixed potion."

"Slimy git probably set Harry up," Sirius growled, showing his dog attributes.

But Dumbledore denied any guilt. "Severus was as surprised as any," he contradicted. "He holds no guilt, and the accident truly was an accident."

Sirius wasn't convinced. His face darkened in hate, but he remained without verbal objections.

"The true matter of the disappearance is this: while he remained in the hospital wing, Poppy discovered an increase in Harry's already substantial powers, placing him to the level of Enchanter in the System of Wizardry. Had his powers increased more even the slightest, he would be boosted yet again, this time to the title of High Enchanter."

Sirius paled. "But, he's only a kid-"

"And any magical increase is unheard of," Dumbledore cut off. "Poppy informed me of this before: _a wizard is born with a set amount of power and cannot, under any circumstances, naturally increase that power._ Something happened while he was gone to _unnaturally_ increase Harry's power, and that happening frightens me. What if he disappears again?"

Sirius leaned forward and leaned his head into his hands. "I don't know anything about this," he finally murmured. "But I'll do anything I can."

"I need you to find out where Harry went," came the desperate reply as even the headmaster of the school, Sorcerer in rank, admitted both ignorance and helplessness to the situation.

*

Paper crinkled in his hands, Harry sneaked about the potions classroom, wishing his dragon hadn't knocked everything over earlier that day. Sensing his thoughts, the golden dragon croaked in denial, rightfully setting the blame back on his shoulders.

He snorted. "Oh yeah?" The dragon, sitting on Snape's desk, flicked its tail insolently. "I have a good mind to just send you to Snape." The threat rang empty in both set of ears and the dragon tried a grin, showing off its gleaming fangs.

Harry shook his head, undaunted by the mouthed threat, and again consulted the paper in his hands. On one side, Neville's neat scrawl labeled out the necessary ingredients as well as the design to place the potion in order. On the other, Dumbledore's copied handwriting listed out the potion's counter, another potion designed to return Harry back to his original dimension, should anything go back. He studied the two lists carefully, committing both to memory because he knew from fact that nothing could be carried over during a dimension hop. The only way he got Dumbledore's list is because he used a memory spell to recreate the words, a spell that carried more than a bit of its fair share of dark magic.

His Slytherin friends had taught it to him. They'd be so proud.

Snape had done a wonderful job of cleaning up--of course, he probably just had the elves clean up the dungeon classroom for him. Harry could almost picture it: the potion master standing on the backs of crying elves, demanding that they clean faster. He shook the image from his head and set about again, brushing through the shelves for his ingredients.

Placing them down on a table, Harry pulled out his cauldron and tapped it, bringing the thumbnail-sized thing back to its normal proportions. Then he set to work.

*

"Hey, has anyone seen Harry?" Ron called out over the dull roar of chatter in the common rooms. Heads turned, some with disgust, others with apathy, but a limited few with concern. "We can't find him."

"Good riddance," someone snorted and was several times backed up with similar comments.

Ron's anger flared. He stepped up to the guilty person and viciously shoved him, sending him slamming against the wall. The room froze as the fight started. The person, a seventh year by the name of Allen Kirson, swore and jumped to his feet, never one to back down a challenge.

He swung a fist and then another as Ron dodged.

"Stop it!" Hermione shouted but she was ignored.

Ron leaped forward and tackled the teen, leaving them both grunting on the floor as a circle of onlookers gathered around them.

Allen snarled and reached into his pocket, whipping out his wand as Ron did the same. One shouted out the spell for a confounding charm; the other countered the first and backlashed with a stunning spell. Shouts were shouted, threats were rung, and by the time Ginny entered the room, both were exhausted but unwilling to give up. On Ron's side: the fifth years who'd had their opinions changed during the brief time since the change in Harry, as well as the Quidditch team and several others who knew better. On Allen's side: the rest of the Gryffindor body, all mad and raging, struck beyond relief by the Slytherin comments, the Hufflepuff betrayal, and the cool Ravenclaw logic.

The common room raged a mess as chairs overturned, struck by magical recoil that kicked back from countered spells and stopped charms. The noise was deafeningly quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the tow contestants and their vicious spells sent towards each other, all thoughts of past unity forgotten as both were pushed beyond their limits, their loyalties pressed too far.

Ron shouted out another spell but it quickly became apparent that, for every spell the fifth year knew, the seventh year Allen knew two more plus the counter. Ron had only stayed on so long because of his sheer courage and magical strength, strength unknowingly greater than Allen's.

His spell was countered and another was sent his way. So far, the duel had turned out only spells that gave temporary harm, spells meant to stun or stop. But now, Allen's words sparked a fire in Ron's very clothing.

He shouted in plain alarm and his shout was met by one of Hermione's.

The fire caught onto the students' faces, flames playing evil shadows on the skin. Allen looked defiantly on, not showing the slightest care for the death his spell could assign but others behind him let out startled screams.

Hermione's quick actions prevented disaster; met by stupidity on either side, she struck out alone and praised her own intelligence as a counter rose in her brain. Her lips moved and the flames were extinguished before any harm beyond smell and slight char could be done.

With her actions, a hushed silence fell over as full reality smacked each student, pointing out how quickly they moved to violence. Allen swallowed and those behind him took a collective step back, eyeing him with fear.

"Idiots!" Hermione's voice rang true over the silence, the only one brave enough to face down the formerly-madly enraged Gryffindors. Her hand struck out accusingly towards Allen. "Do you know what you could have done?"

"There was no harm done-"

"No harm?" she repeated, eyes flaring up in righteous anger. She gestured to the common room and the extent of the damage became apparent. "No harm?" Her tone took a derisive tone and the years winced at the sheer anger the little witch held. "What would you consider harm? Hurt? Terrible pain? Death?"

She took a shaky, unbelieving breath as she looked around the room, her disbelief reflected in her unsteady hand and her shaking body and it became apparent just how close to the edge the duel had become. "Someone could have died," she whispered, aghast. "Would that have stopped you?"

Allen tried to snort, tried to wave the actions as child play, but the anger in her eyes stopped him short and guilt rang off him in waves.

"We're not Slytherins," someone tried but Hermione turned on that person quick as a whip.

"Oh no?" she challenged. "What makes us so different, if we duel in our common room and fight with fire against those younger than us?" She turned her burning eyes back to Allen. "Someone could have died," she repeated, "and it would have been all your fault."

Ginny stood, having taken no step beyond her initial entrance into the common room, and quivered with the same fear that now swept Gryffindor courage away in the face of near-death. Ron also stood, smoke rising from his singed garments, staring at Hermione as a single phrase repeated itself in his head: "I could've died."

"I'm going for the headmaster," Hermione breathed out, voice still shaking. Allen's eyes widened but the little witch already spun around, nearly barreling Ginny over. Ron stayed for only a second before he caught his senses and shot off after her, leaving smoke hanging in the air, the smell as thick as the taste of death.

Swaying at her feet, Ginny turned to watch her brother run with a mute sense of incredulity. "Gryffindors aren't like this," she muttered to herself, shivering. Turning, she walked towards her older brothers and quietly asked what had happened.

Fred shook his head, mouth gaping open, no thought for jokes as his mind replayed Ron's burning over and over. George wearily brought her up to speed, and all three Weasleys ignited with anger against the room as the fact came to notice: their brother had nearly died.

"I'm going to find Harry," Ginny announced, not loudly but her voice carried over the creepy silence. "He'll know what to do."

And he would, each mind assured itself. He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and he was destined to set the world right.

*

"There." Harry eyed the smoking concoction with unease. "Now, I'll be able to go back." The smoke promised otherwise.

His dragon scrapped its talons along the desk, not caring that Snape would have a heart attack at the deep gorges in the morning.

Harry's skepticism rose. "Or maybe I'll be poisoned and die."

Tired now, the dragon walked up towards the newly restored ingredient-cabinet and, with all the grace of a bull, snapped its tail out. The tail snagged a bottle.

*Crash.*

Harry whirled around as the bottle's liquid began to ooze out. "Hey!"

Instead of the usual 'Who? Me?' look the dragon always gave to prove its innocence, it now looked to Harry as if to say, 'Yea, that was me. Give me a second and I'll do it again.'

"Stupid dragon," Harry muttered. It heard him and bared its teeth, growling. "What?" He held his arms out. "You think you can hurt me?" Its growl proved it could. "Right." Turning back, Harry continued eyeing the concoction with mistrust. "Maybe I'll _think_ I'm poisoned, but I'll _really_ go back."

Another crash sounded. Irritated, Harry spun back. "Knock that off," he barked, but the instant the words came out of his mind, the dragon toppled the entire cupboard.

Right onto Harry.

He screamed and jumped back, narrowly avoiding a good smack between the eyes that would've given him more than a scar to contend with. Glasses smashed, potions bashed, and the whole scene unknowingly took beat with the fight going on in the Gryffindor common room. Some potions mixed and burbled before catching on fire; other boiled than turned to ice. Several all gathered in an odd little dip in the dungeon floor, turning an oozy puke color.

Harry swore. "Now look what you've done!" He swore again.

The dragon chirped happily, having lost all boredom, and merrily landed on Harry's shoulder. Angrily, he shoved it back into the air where it spiraled before coming back, hissing and landing on Harry's head, tail whipping about and wings lowered to blind.

Harry's hand came up and beat at the golden thing but it hissed and its tail swatted down any attempts. Neither caused the other pain; this was nothing more than a well-rehearsed, well-enjoyed game between the two: who gave up first.

Footsteps down the hall caused both halt and Harry scrambled, game forgotten, for the Invisibility Cloak lying dropped casually over a desk. He scuttled and his dragon was whipped off his head, squished against his chest and beneath the curves of the cloak, beside the smoking concoction mixed well in the other hand. With a word, all light was driven out.

Eventually, the feet stopped before the door and the classroom was opened, but with a caution that spoke of an invading student. Lightly, the person stepped into the room and gave light to candles doused just moments before by Harry. Any professor would have noticed and suspected the speed at which the candles lit, but this student noticed no such disturbance.

Carefully, Harry picked his way over the broken jars and towards the door, not even stopping to see what student was stopped here. Further down the corridor, he could here more steps and these he recognized immediately. Given to sneaking about the castle at night, Harry had memorized each professor's footsteps out a wise paranoia. For certain teachers, like McGonagall and Trelawney, he only needed to hit the right buttons and his punishment would be forgotten. But others would take distinct pleasure out of capturing Harry out doing the prohibited.

One of those teachers, in fact the very professor heading this way, was Snape.

Probably disturbed by the loud crash of his bottles (for a second time that day, Harry noted with an undeniable smirk) Snape was almost running to his precious classroom and would be there momentarily. Whatever poor soul was caught here would probably experience those tortures Filch so missed.

The student gasped as she found the damage left behind by Harry's dragon and he took the opportunity to run out unnoticed, slipping down the halls and pausing to let Snape sweep by before running on. He fumbled, letting his dragon sour out and slipping his potion into his pocket, withdrawing his map at the same time. A quick glance showed that no one was around, but there was a disturbing meeting going on between Sirius and Dumbledore back in the headmaster's office. Unsure as to why his godfather was still there, Harry pressed on to the abandoned hut of Hagrid, assured that no one would be there, allowing him peacefully drink and either die or get taken for another dimension hop.

*

Dumbledore had just finished setting Sirius' work before him when his door was brutally opened and just as brutally angered, Snape walked in. Caught in one hand were the robes of one Miss Virginia Weasley. Behind him, walking with bashful courage, were the two personas of Ron and Hermione.

She struggled and, seeing Dumbledore, nearly fell over herself. "Professor, I can explain-"

"Headmaster, I caught _this_ student," he roughly let go of Ginny just as she struggled, resulting in her falling to the ground with a shriek, "destroying my classroom."

The distraction was welcome. Sirius, startled by the unannounced entrance, had just transformed back to his animagus state and hid behind Dumbledore's desk, barring his teeth at the stench of the person he firmly believed responsible for Harry's disappearance the day before.

Dumbledore calmly motioned for the four to take seats. Ginny immediately broke out with a story of stumbling into the ruined class, having only been there for a moment before being caught by Snape's vengeful hand. Ron and Hermione then sheepishly admitted to having been caught trying to guess the year's password, inferring to an important event recently occurred in the Gryffindor Tower but unwilling to speak of it in Snape's presence.

"Well," Dumbledore hid his smile well, "I'll have to deal with this. Goodnight, Severus." The professor haughtily glared at the students and left.

"Professor, I swear I didn't do it," Ginny immediately pleaded.

"Of course you didn't," Dumbledore soothed. "Don't worry child, I believe you. However," he looked to the older two, "I think there's more important business."

In grave tones, the two fifth years related the recent fight along with its near-disastrous end, and end prevented only through the use of quick wit. Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Already, the Dark Lord's touch spreads," he murmured to himself, absently scratching Sirius' ear. The dog whined in solemn agreement.

Ginny, startled to find a dog in the office, looked to her brother and friend but neither looked surprised in the least so she settled back down.

Dumbledore was thoughtfully exploring a possibility to the Gryffindor problem when suddenly a thought occurred to him, dark as any premonition. "You say you were looking for Harry?" he asked. 

Ron nodded. "Yea. He disappeared after we grabbed something to eat. He wanted to go to the library or something." Ron's expression clouded over and he glanced to Hermione. "Right?"

The prefect looked startled. "He... I don't think he actually told us."

Dumbledore's face darkened the slightest as he put one and one together: Harry had disappeared and someone had ransacked the potions classroom, where one obvious reason would be to find potion ingredients. Danger alerted his mind to hundreds of probabilities, the worst of which gave him reason to alert the Ministry: someone had found out about Harry's power increase (Voldemort) and had stolen both the boy and the ingredients to make the potion himself.

Another possibility was that Harry had been forced to remake the potion and had opposed whoever was forcing him (Voldemort), resulting in a fight that wasted the dungeon classroom. Or perhaps... each of the possibilities rang out with warning against Voldemort and grave danger for Harry.

The dog at his feet reached the same conclusion and it barked, jumping up and heading towards the door with a frenzied panic.

"Professor?" Ron looked about in confusion. "Snuffles?"

"Come with me," Dumbledore ordered. "There's trouble." He opened the door and Sirius shot out like a bullet, nose to the ground.

"Is Harry in trouble?" Ginny asked, breathless as they began to run, keeping up with the massive black dog. Ron and Hermione found the answer in the silence that came and their faces molded into grim certainty. Having never been in a rough situation since her first year, Ginny gulped, recalling the terror that the diary had sparked.

Sirius led them down towards a picture of a fruit bowl then shot away, heading towards the Gryffindor common room. Halfway there, he stopped, sniffing as Harry's scent met up with that of another student. Then he led away, back down towards-

The dungeons? Sirius paused in confusion and backtracked, sniffing the other student's scent again, trying to divine from it whether the student had been any cause of Harry's disappearance, but the scent turned harmless.

Meanwhile, the four humans waited in agitated silence, each drawing fearful conclusions from the dog's hesitance and backtrack. Then Sirius started again, warily smelling every corner as he headed down. Again, halfway there, he stopped but this time it was because just as Harry's scent led down to the class, a fresher trail led back up the hallway. He turned and followed the fresher trail.

More confusion brewed from Sirius' turn and Dumbledore's face was blank, save for his burning blue eyes that sparked fear.

Sirius scented down the trail, unknowingly leading the group outside and into a very large hut on the outskirts of the school.

*

"Maybe I'll turn into something."

Harry diddled his fingers together, staring at the potion that still smoked in front of him, the smoke twisting into trails that led every which-way before evaporating. Kind of like the possibilities of drinking this, Harry mused. 

"Like a toad." His face blanched with the possibility. "Maybe not."

His dragon, bored again to silly antics, started flinging itself through Hagrid's hut, upsetting barrels and drawers, and tossing things everywhere.

Harry rolled his eyes and slapped at the air but was ignored. Then the dragon spotted a new possibility after having totally wrecked Hagrid's room; it swooped down and caught the map up in its claws.

"Hey!" Harry jumped up. "Give that back!"

The dragon, noting Harry's want, teased the boy mercilessly, hanging low in the air with the map just beyond reach. Harry sputtered and swore but broke into helpless laughter, jumping up time after time only to have his fingers merely brush the parchment before sliding away.

*

Sirius led outside and halted as smell astounded his senses. Before, only sheer determination had kept his nose to the scent of Harry's trail, kept his nose attuned to that single smell among thousands of different smells. But now, outside, more than a thousand different smells came up.

And they all required his attention.

Dog instincts rose up, urging him to follow the trail of a cat but human logic pointed out that the cat was McGonagall. Instinct pointed to the wind, the rain, the sun, all sources of smells he needed to smell. Only logic could tear his mind away and once again focus on the trail.

It led again and Sirius sneezed, brushing grass tips from his sensitive nose, but positive that he'd tracked Harry once again.

And that though was confirmed as he led the group down towards the abandoned hut of the half-giant.

*

Finally, Harry jumped up and grabbed the map. Obviously, the dragon was bored of that game. Half-annoyed, half-exhilarated with the game, Harry glanced at the map, barely registering the four people heading down on him.

The dragon nipped at him, setting him back towards the smoking cup. Obviously, it felt that Harry's indecisive time was over and that, if the boy was going to do it, he'd do it now.

"All right, all right," Harry swatted the dragon away and a cheerful laugh. His laugh cut short when the dragon landed a bit on Harry's little finger. Instead of laughing, Harry sucked in his breath and swore. "That hurt!"

The dragon was relentless, bashing its wings against Harry's head in an attack Harry hadn't experienced for some time. "Ow! Stop it! Ouch! All right, all right," he winced and felt against his temple where he was sure a bruise was forming. "I'll drink it. Just stop attacking me."

Then, the dragon having settled down from whatever had agitated it to the brink, Harry took a deep breath and raised the glass to his lips.

*

'No!' Sirius wanted to shout when he heard his godson's shouts but all that came was a gruff bark of alarm. He sped up and bashed against the door with enough force to break it open. But, even as he came it, it was too late.

Behind him, the lagging group caught up to see the great black dog mournfully sniffing at the broken cuts of glass on the floor, smoke rising with snake-like motions. Dumbledore took a deep breath and looked around.

Harry was gone.


	7. 6

****

** Dimension Wander **

By Tvillinger

****

Life II -- Part I

Harry backed away until he hit the dark Chamber wall, and as he shut his eyes tight, he felt Fawkes' wings seep his cheek as he took flight. Harry wanted to shout, "Don't leave me!" but what chance did a phoenix have against the king of serpents?

Something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. Harry felt it shudder--he knew what was happening, he could sense it, could almost see the giant serpent uncoiling itself from Slytherin's mouth. Then he heard Riddle's hissing voice:

"_Kill him._"

The basilisk was moving toward Harry; he could hear its heavy body slithering heavily across the dusty floor. Eyes still tightly shut, Harry began to run sideways, his hands outstretched, feeling his way--Voldemort was laughing--

His laugh was cut off, and even the basilisk's heavy movements were silenced. Harry, with his eyes still firmly shut, was able to feel the room shift, like it was wavering between realities. Despite his misgivings, he peeked his eyes open.

The room _was_ shifting, one wall of the Chamber shimmering like it couldn't remember if it was supposed to be there or not. And from that shimmering wall came a body...

Harry gaped in wide-eyed wonder as he saw himself, staring right back at him. Every detail, besides the different robes, was the same, right down to the glasses and messy hair. The only thing was that this boy had a weird scar on his forehead. 

Awed, Harry took a small step towards his mirror image, too late remembering the danger he was in. Fawkes gave a mighty, musical cry, but the bird too had been distracted by this look-alike's arrival and was coming down too slow. Confused, Harry turned, and saw the bright, glowing eyes of death before the snake's power overwhelmed him, snapping his glasses into a thousand pieces, and he felt every muscle in his body freezing up.

Before he fell, he wondered what would happen to Ginny.

*

Harry felt the sensation of falling without moving as the liquid burned down his throat. Too late, he remembered Neville's last minute addition, a note he'd forgotten to write instructing Harry on adding more than the recommended amount of owl feathers.

The mistake made, Harry now concluded that, by all accounts, he was going to die.

However, as the falling feeling drifted away, he was left with a great and empty feeling, hitting him like a rock to the belly, urging him to move. Reluctant, he fought against the feeling but then was gracelessly thrown back into the world of the conscious.

Bright lights blinded him before disappearing and Harry blinked in sudden surprise, opening his brilliant emerald eyes just in time to see his other self look back at him with the same bit of awe that Harry now felt. He watched his copy for a moment-

But the moment was brutally interrupted when his other self turned sharply. Harry looked as well, time enough to see the horrible end the other self came to. A giant snake, focus on the other self, turned hypnotic gaze and the boy fell, dead to all appearances. Viciously, the snake tore into his arm, huge fangs dripping poison. Blood spilt and ran out.

Harry screamed, backing up against a solid wall and realizing just how terrible a position he was in.

High above, a phoenix screamed in agony, song-like voice merging with Harry as it doze, coming after the snake with a vengeance. Its talons clawed, beak pecking with deadly accuracy. The snake hissed in pain and tried to come back, tried to strike its flying enemy as its eyes were meticulously pecked out.

The snake's blood joined human blood on the floor and Harry felt sickened, worse than anything he'd every felt. Wearily, he slumped up to the boy look-alike, stunned by a face in death so identical to his own.

Something had gone wrong. Instead of simply killing him, the potion had damned him to hell. Harry struggled with the revulsion turning his stomach.

"Who are you?" an accusing voice called out, beckoning Harry's awareness. "Surely you can't be Harry Potter as well."

Harry snapped about. In the background, Fawkes continued screams sounded like the rages of suicidal warriors, giving up everything to and for the cause, song mixing with the tortured but angered hisses as retile and bird finished their dangerous dance of death. Standing to the other side of the familiar room was a boy with black hair and pale skin, skin doomed to grow paler in future years, stretching until the boy's face became an abnormality of the wizarding world.

Tom Marvelo Riddle. Lord Voldemort.

"No," Harry breathed, eyes widening beyond normal size as fear gripped him. "It's-it's not possible." Panicked, he looked around but all signs showed him the truth: the potion had forced him not to the desired dimension, but to an altogether different one, sending him into a time where he was battling Tom Riddle in the depths of the Chamber of Secrets. The dead body on the floor confirmed his supposed youth as twelve, but on his dead copy's forehead, the skin lay unmarred.

Harry recoiled as soon as he saw the lack of a scar, mind whirling too fast to truly comprehend what the sign meant. He shut his eyes tightly as a fit of dizziness hit him; seeing _his own body_ lying dead, bloody, and empty was too much.

Sweat and tears mingled together and Harry was rushed with the feeling of just how lucky he had been, those years before when he had managed to defeat Riddle. Fawkes flirted down a note of desperate satisfaction and Harry looked over to see the Basilisk, bleeding heavily from the eyes, blinded but not yet dead. The task of its death lay to Harry now. Ginny, he realized, was lying prone on the ground not too far away, in direct path of the deadly king of snakes.

Heaving to his feet and chastising himself for his fear, Harry caught sight of the Sorting Hat a short distance away and he swayed uneasily towards it.

Halfway there, he hit an invisible wall.

"I asked your name." The voice of the fifteen-year old Voldemort slapped Harry, but the blow sharpened Harry's mind and refocused his thoughts, making him feel a warmth along his chest he hadn't taken the time to notice. Out of a robe pocket came a slender golden wing, followed by a golden dragon glowing and humming with power as it sensed imminent danger for its master.

Fawkes, slightly tired from its fight, coughed a threatening greeting as another reptile rose to the air.

Across the Chamber, Riddle's eyes widened slightly. "What is that?"

Heartened by his dragon's appearance, Harry took his lessons and strained against the shield, looking for that one break in the defense that would crumble it. "I'd think it obvious; it's a dragon." His dragon chirped. "My dragon."

"Pretty puny," Riddle commented lazily, lifting an eyebrow. From his posture, he didn't expect Harry to break down that shield any time soon. "I didn't know that dragons could be that small. Must be a runt."

The dragon hissed, understanding the content if not the meaning of the words. Its wings spread out and it flew against the shield as well, battering the spiked arches against the invisible wall.

The future Voldemort wasn't daunted. He called out in a hiss to the snake still searching for its flying prey: "_Kill the girl._"

"No!" Harry looked over to see the snake raising its torn head, tongue slipping out to taste the air. Fawkes, tiring from battle, rose again to the challenge and tore the air asunder to reach the snake, engaging its poisons and distracting it from its mission.

"Focus," Harry muttered to himself, searching through the shields. His dragon hit its spot repeatedly and, on impulse, Harry hit the same spot exactly as one taloned claw. 

Riddle laughed. "If that thing thinks it can-" He was cut short as Harry, with the additional power of his dragon, found the small break in the shield and it became visible a moment before blowing away like dust. "How?"

Harry ignored him, running towards the Sorting Hat and stuffing his hand into its tattered material. His hand, at first, encountered nothing, but then the slick, cool feeling of metal chilled his fingers and Gryffindor's Sword slid out with a *shick*.

"_Kill the boy!_" Riddle screamed, and Harry turned to see the blinded snake slithering towards him. A dreadful feeling rose in his stomach; he remembered this part all too well. "_Ignore the bird and kill the boy!_"

The basilisk, eye sockets dripping blood and gruesome fangs dripping venom, snaked out its forked tongue as it slithered towards Harry, moving faster than such a huge thing was expected to. Harry lunged aside, turning quickly as the snake slammed against the wall and recovered, leaping for him again. Harry lifted the sword, its bloody rubies glittering with lust, and threw it into the air, ducking at the last moment as the snake _flew_ from its stop to attack him.

The sword caught it mid-flight, striking the snake with such power that it was slammed back against the wall and held there, pinned like a collected butterfly. It hissed weakly, painfully, and Harry felt a twinge of pity for the beautiful, if deadly, snake as it tried to coil up, tried to free itself. The sword had embedded itself too deep in the Chamber's walls for it to do much more than quiver with all the snakes efforts, and soon the basilisk hung dead.

Riddle was practically shaking with fury. He pointed a long, bony finger at Harry angrily. "You-you killed my snake!"

Harry ignored him again, scanning the floor for the diary. There it was! Lying across the room, at the feet of the very pale and shaky Ginny.

"Ginny!" Harry hurried to her side, not even hearing the curses that Riddle was shooting at him. The diary was beside her hand, fingers red like she'd tried to scratch the pages out before fainting. The diary was draining her, almost quicker than in his time. Harry looked around but saw the sword still embedded in the wall, and both of the snake's fangs still hanging from its gaping mouth.

His dragon gave a shrill cry and dove down at the diary, attacking it with its sharp talons.

"Wait!" Riddle shouted. A page ripped, and the teen boy clutched at his fading arm. "What are you doing? Stop it! Get away from that!"

Harry realized that Riddle held Ginny's wand clutched in his hands and pulled out his own wand. "_Expelliamus!_" The wand jerked away from Riddle's hands, leaving him defenseless.

"No! You don't know what you're doing!" Riddle's pathetic cries echoed hollowly across the Chamber, his body fading quicker and quicker as the dragon let out a furious snort and stabbed the book with a deep thrust.

There was a screaming sound and Riddle was on the floor, screaming, shaking, and writhing in pain before vanishing completely. Harry blinked and felt the first wave of fatigue wash over him. Pulling his dragon close, away from the dripping mess of ink, Harry checked Ginny over, making sure that she was recovering before starting the long and dreadful walk back across the Chamber to see the horrid lump of flesh.

He looked back down onto his dead self and again felt a wave of revulsion and nausea. Little things he hadn't noticed before made themselves clear now. Pieces of glass stuck across the dead's face and eyelashes from when the glasses had shattered under the basilisk's gaze. Harry looked down and knew utter responsibility at this death; he almost cracked.

But years with Sirius and Remus had formed a great strength within him and he wasn't about to break again. "Voldemort killed him," he whispered, words ringing true. "Voldemort killed him like he killed Cedric." Harry closed his eyes and whispered, "_Incendio_," not wanting to see the gruesome image any more. He turned away from the fire, going over to the dead snake. "Fawkes, help me," he pleaded, tugging at the sword.

The phoenix glanced at the burning body but flew over to Harry, landing on his shoulder. His dragon, siting on the other shoulder, let out a hiss but was ignored. Fawkes clenched his beak about the hilt and, with one strong motion, pulled it from wall.

The snake's body fell with a thud, splashing in the pile of its own blood on the floor. Some of the blood splashed up and got over Harry, who winced at the smell and the sense of wrongness being covered in blood gave.

A faint moan came from the other side of the Chamber, and Harry hurriedly cut off the fire, hoping that Ginny wouldn't detect the smell of burnt flesh above all the over smells. He got to her side as she blinked her eyes open, and was taken away by the confusion and youth this Ginny had that his didn't. It was to be expected; he had already seen Ginny grown to fourteen, while this one was still only eleven.

When she saw him, her eyes lost their confusion to be replaced with utter fear. One of her hands reached up to clench Harry's arm as she babbled, "Harry! You covered in blood--what happened? All I remember is--oh Harry, I'm so sorry. I tried to tell you. Tom made me do it, Harry, I swear he-"

"Shh," Harry put a finger to her lips, silencing her. His dragon swished its tail, and her eyes widened. "Everything's alright. I know what happened, so you don't need to explain." She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when Fawkes flew over to her shoulder, wetting her with his tears. To Harry, the phoenix looked slightly sad, as if he knew that he'd failed in his task to protect the other Harry, and was trying to make it up by healing Ginny.

"We should get out of here," Harry suggested quietly, helping a refreshed Ginny to her feet. She looked around, panicked, until her eyes settled on the motionless coils of the enormous snake lying in a pile across the room and nodded, not complaining about the speed Harry pushed them to.

They walked in silence a few moments before the sound of falling rocks hit their ears. Grinning with relief, Harry called out, "Ron! We're over here!"

"Harry?" Ron's muffled voice came back, sounding relieved. "Where's Ginny?"

"I'm right here," Ginny replied. "And I'm fine, too."

They sped up to reach the hold Ron had worked through the collapsed rumble and Ginny, after some tears and fears to Ron, was pulled through, followed by a low-flying Fawkes, and a sword-carrying Harry.

Neither of the two commented on him carrying a sword.

When Ron saw the dragon, he swallowed but stayed quiet, holding his questions while he turned his attention to the empty pipes behind them. "Come on, I reckon the whole school's worrying about us. With Lockhart gone, our classes would've been cancelled so they wouldn't have noticed us being gone--well, maybe Ginny--until now. They'll probably have out obituaries out already."

"Obituaries?" Harry wondered. He was ignored.

When they reached the end of the pipes, Ginny sniffed and looked up at the long, black pipe that was their way out. "How are we going to get up there?"

"Fawkes can carry us," Harry answered even as the bird offered its tail to Harry. The two glanced at each other a bit then played along, Ron grabbing Harry's robe and Ginny holding on to Ron's other hand. Fawkes let out a huffy squawk when the dragon tried to hold on as well, throwing the small creature off. It blew a cloud of smoke at the phoenix angrily before latching onto Harry.

"Lazy bum," Harry chided, regaining his humor after the horrific event. It slapped Harry with a wing, and Fawkes took off, lifting the three up. A sense of weightlessness overtook them, as they went higher and higher, bringing to Harry a burden-free feeling he craved. The pipes expanded magically before throwing them down on the floor of the girls' bathroom.

Moaning Myrtle let out a shout of surprise before blinking to get a better look at them. "Looks like you made it," she stated dully.

"If we didn't, I'd come back and share a stall with you," Harry promised wearily. Myrtle brightened up and left them alone.

He lay in a pile of limbs for a moment, absently bringing a hand up to wipe the smile off his glasses before he leaned over and grinned madly at his two friends, overcome by the sheer thrill of survival. "_That_ was an adventure!"

"Harry, are you bloody insane?" Ginny shouted, leaping up with tears cascading down her face. "We could've been killed! You could've been killed! And I'm going to get expelled!"

Ron took a good look at Harry and paled. "Harry, you're covered in blood."

Harry shrugged, still grinning with the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His joy was cut short when Fawkes nudged his shoulder towards the door, urging him to a room he knew he had to go to. "Oh, can't we wait another minute?" he pleaded with the bird but it didn't agree.

His dragon took up his cause, spreading its wings apart and pulling its neck back to protect its head as it let out a huge hiss of anger, tail swishing back and forth like a club. Fawkes looked mildly disturbed at such a sight, and the dragon hissed lower, its spikes standing on edge in a protective layer around its scales.

"Woah!" Ron and Ginny fell back, watching the mini-battle between reptilian and phoenix, the second the weary Fawkes had to go through.

Harry rolled his eyes and waved a hand between the two magical creatures. "Shut it!" he commanded, wrapping his sleeve around his hand so that he could safely pick up his dragon. It's neck snaked out and tried to bite him but Harry avoided it. Fawkes let out a disapproving note and Harry hung his head. "I guess we'll have to go."

"Go where?" Ron asked, standing and helping the two to their feet.

Harry wiped as much grim off his robes as possible. "We got to follow Fawkes to McGonagall's room," he explained, distastefully cleaning off his hands. He glanced at himself in the mirror and turned a beaming smile onto his friends, spreading his arms out wide, unable to contain his complete freedom as worries passed away. Nothing could drag him down now. "There. How do I look?"

"Did something happen down there?" Ron whispered loudly to Ginny, who shrugged with a blank expression on her face. She stopped crying, which was good enough for Harry.

Fawkes cried out again and Harry waved a hand at the bird. "Hold your horses already. Jeez, we got plenty of time."

Ron and Ginny exchanged questioning glances but didn't voice their confusion, falling behind Harry as he started out of the bathroom and down the hall after Fawkes' lead. Several times they had to pause as Harry's dragon became bored and picked fights out with various things: suits of armor, ghosts, wide-eyed students, Fawkes--the phoenix was beginning to look agitated with the puny reptile, sweeping its wings against the dragon to brush it aside mid-air.

Finally, the trio reached McGonagall's room and the door opened. For a moment, they just stood in the doorway, dripping their foul-smelling grime all over the place. The silence was broken by a scream.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley rushed forward, her husband following quickly, and they squeezed Ginny to an inch of her life before turning on Ron. "My babies," the woman sobbed, clutching her children to her breast.

Harry smiled slightly at the scene before looking passed them, seeing the familiar-yet-different face of the headmaster, leaning against the mantle place. Fawkes gratefully left Harry's side to go and float at Dumbledore's side, landing gracefully on a shoulder. A shiver passed through Harry as he realized that where his Dumbledore had always held a firm trust in him, this Dumbledore's eyes held no such light, almost as though he was a stranger.

Harry unlocked his gaze with the steely blue and glanced about the room again. This time, his eyes caught again but an unbelieving sob tore at his throat.

Eyes green as his own with a face as forbidden to him as an angel's, Lily Evans Potter descended upon Harry like a mist of happiness. "Harry! Oh Harry!"

He stiffened at her touch, unbelieving and unable to believe what his mind registered as touch, smell, and sight. She felt real, true enough, but the mind could be deceived. Her scent was as foreign as a tropical breeze, exactly as he had imagined and she held him in a motherly embrace that could not be imitated.

"M-mum?" It couldn't be true, his mind argued, even as her tears wetted his shirt. Her hands wrapped about him and held him tight, using his body as a stabilizer for her unsteady misery-relief.

Lily pulled away and wiped at her tears but as soon as she took in his appearance, his blood-dripping robes and grim-stained clothing, she broke into another round of tears and Harry thought for a moment that she was ashamed of him, that his appearance caused her pain.

His mind was too frozen to register the voice that comforted her, the shoulders that her arms slid around, until the voice was directed to him. "We came as soon as we could," James Potter informed him gravely, not even a twinkle in his eyes. He looked Harry over and paled several shades. "Son... what happened?"

Whatever response James expected from his son, fainting was not one of them. Harry took one look at his father and, even as he realized that what everyone said was true (they _did_ look alike), his mind was completely overwhelmed by this sudden wish-come-true and blanked out. He hit the floor with the grace of a brick.

*

When Harry awoke, it was to the smell of rank salts stuck beneath his nose. He brushed the hand that held them away, nose wrinkling in disgust. A snort reached his ears along with retreating footsteps. Harry blinked awake and for a moment, his vision was cloudy-white, like a foggy day.

The fog cleared and showed him the hospital wing, normal as ever, but just seeing it made him shiver and clutch his arms to his chest, feeling cold despite the lack of a chill. The wing was empty and he guessed Madam Pomfrey had been the one to just walk away. Swinging his feet over the edge and standing up, Harry pulled on his boots and tiptoed down to the door.

Opening the door, he carefully looked around and saw no one coming. With a sigh of relief, Harry sneaked out the door, quietly closing it behind him. It wouldn't be until he was far gone, already down the halls towards the dungeon, that Pomfrey would walk out and notice her patient gone, then alert the school with a horrified scream.

Harry walked through the halls, nodding to the people who nodded to him, noting that many either avoided his eyes or watched him with something akin to worship. Uncomfortable, Harry tugged at his cleaned robes and hurried down. Hopefully, there wouldn't be anyone in the dungeons and he'd be able to concoct a batch of the counter potion, be able to return home.

Where his other dimension hop had left him in a worry-free place, this one, while trying to act the same, gave Harry an awful feeling of despair. He noticed the desperate sorrow reflected in every student; no one looked untouched. Shivering again without a chill, Harry averted his gaze, wondering what sort of magic had so turned his world.

He headed down to the dungeons but, even getting close to the doors, he heard Snape's bellowing voice raging at an incompetent student and wearily made his way back up to ground level, unwilling to face down Snape while a feeling of unnaturalness clung to his every pore.

Something was wrong. He had known it before but now, he attributed the wrongness to something that lie just outside. While walking, Harry noted that all the windows had been bricked shut. Torches lit the halls, shading everything in a sickly orange or a sinister red. Concerned, he looked around for a door and found that even those had been bolted, held magically locked but whether it was to prevent entrance or exit, he wasn't sure.

Giving up with a sigh, Harry turned to go towards the library, retracing his footsteps. Halfway there, he met up with a grim-looking Ron. "Ron? What's wrong?"

Ron gave a start. He had been sitting alone on a flight of stairs, not caring when the stairs moved. Blinking, the redhead shook his head for an answer.

Casually, Harry sat down and gave out a deep breath of relaxation as he stretched out over the stairs, looking up towards the ceiling.

They rested there for several minutes before Ron broke the silence. "What do you want?" His voice was cold.

Harry blinked and looked to his best friend but saw none of the friendliness Ron always held for him. "Um, just wondering if you're all right?"

Ron nodded sharply, clearing expecting Harry to leave but Harry wasn't about to go anywhere. Finally, Ron groaned and leaned back against the stairs. "Just leave me alone, Harry."

"Not until you tell me what's the matter," Harry shot back. "Or do you usually mope on stairs?" Ron glared at him then turned away. "No, I'm serious-"

"What's the matter with _you_," Ron came back, voice angled to sting. "What's with the sudden concern?"

"Sudden concern? What are you talking about? Aren't we friends?" The thought that they _weren't_ friends came to mind but Harry brushed that thought away, assured that he and Ron would always be friends. Ron didn't answer so Harry started a different approach. "How's Ginny?"

"Fine. Now go away."

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes with exasperation. "No."

"Yes." Ron was insistent.

"No." So was Harry.

"Go!"

"Make me!"

"You want me to?" Ron took out his wand threateningly.

Harry's forehead wrinkled. "What do you plan on doing with that?"

"I'll make you leave," Ron promised, but his hand was shaking.

"Please." Harry's hand shot out and gripped the wand, taking it away from the deranged Gryffindor. "Now, I'll _make_ you tell me what's wrong. You decide: tell me willingly, or unwillingly." The threat was meant as a joke but Ron pale, taking it seriously.

"No-nothing--all right, I'm worried about Ginny," Ron finally confessed, face slacking in worry. "This is only her first year here."

"Our first year wasn't all that easy," Harry reminded.

Ron looked up with confusion. "What are you talking about? The hardest thing we had to do was testing, and Ginny nearly died! What'll happen next year? Or the year after that? What if she nearly dies every year?"

He buried his face in his hands as Harry frowned, thinking the statement over. Apparently, this dimension wasn't quite as similar as he first thought. Slowly, an idea formed in his head and, reluctant as he was, Harry took Ron's wand and whispered the words to a hypnosis charm, a charm that would send Ron into dazed oblivion. Similar to the Imperious Charm as it was, the hypnosis was very dark magic. His days with Slytherin had left him with more knowledge to those kinds of magicks than he would've preferred. But the power rushed through his body, through his veins, with an odd sensation, an odd addiction.

Ron's head drifted down and his expression eased into blankness. Breathing quickly as he realized just what he did, Harry looked around to make sure no one was coming then quickly started questioning Ron for knowledge he needed. Why are my parents still alive? Why are all the windows and doors boarded shut? What happened in our first year, what happened so far in our second? Why do people look at me strangely, and why don't I have a scar on my forehead? Questions, growing greater in number as Harry thought about the new dimension and the mysteries therein, bombarded Ron and the redhead answered each with a mechanical thoroughness. His voice, empty though it was, gave Harry a shiver and an answer.

Voldemort, many years ago, had been discovered scheming a plot to kill the Potter family. As a result, Dumbledore had placed the family under the Fidilius Charm, hiding their location within their Secret Keeper. For many year, Sirius Black was on the run as it was thought that he was the Keeper, but just two years ago, it was found out that Peter Pettigrew had become the Keeper at the last minute, a secret only four people in the world knew. The Fidilius Charm had been dispelled the year Harry started at Hogwarts.

Because Voldemort had never battled Harry to meet his downfall, the Dark Lord grew in power and Hogwarts was now the last place of protection against him. Doors and windows were barred, magically and physically, to protect students and professors against the constant fire of magic. As things stood now, Hogwarts was weakening daily and within a few years at the most, she too would fall.

Ron and Hermione had been Harry's friends, up until the summer last when Hermione's house had been attacked and her family had gone into hiding. Apparently, the other Harry had been able to warn the Grangers in time though what Ron said was prophecy. This warning gave Harry an extreme amount of respect and fear from the other students.

For awhile after Ron's voice dropped out, Harry sat in stunned silence, unable to comprehend just how terrible his situation was. Erasing Ron's immediate memory with the ease of a graduate, Harry got up and ran towards the library, determined to find out more about this dimension and help.

*

"I-I don't know what happened," the nurse was sobbing into her sleeves. "One minute he was there, the next he was gone-"

"Calm down, Poppy," Dumbledore urged gently but firmly, keen eyes taking in the hospital wing and the empty bed that should have been occupied.

But the nurse wasn't comforted. Her eyes kept going back and forth towards the empty bed with something akin to horror in her eyes. "I-I even did what you said," she muttered weakly. "But he got out, even with the magical bearings."

"Magical bearings?" James, standing behind the headmaster, straightened sharply. "What magical bearings?"

Dumbledore sighed and urged the two Potters to sit. "Something has occurred that I'm not sure I can explain," he began tiredly, fatigue in his every move. James and Lily sat, confused. "When Harry came back, he was completely unharmed-"

"Fawkes would've healed him," Lily pointed out. "That phoenix loves him, you know that."

"Fawkes healed Ginny Weasley," Dumbledore countered. "Her magical essence proves it as such. And, as a phoenix can only heal once a day, it leave me to believe that somehow, your son faced down a magically-powered Basilisk and a young Voldemort, coming out with no injuries."

"There... there must be an explanation," James fumbled awkwardly. "Harry's always been a special lad, maybe-"

"No," Dumbledore interrupted not unkindly. "Even if he is special, it was a second-year facing down a fifth-year--and a fifth-year who held no qualms against using dark magic. But, that is not all. When he was placed in the hospital wing, Poppy discovered that Harry's magical power had increased yet again."

Lily's breath caught but it was James who answered. "But you said it couldn't happen."

"Not naturally," Dumbledore said softly, the accusation hanging stiffly in the air along with the silenced Potters. "Something happened in the Chamber of Secrets that Harry needs to tell us."

"So, now he's a High Enchanter?" Lily's soft voice asked. Her eyes were closed and she shook her head. "I... I can't believe it."

"The System of Wizardry would label as such," Dumbledore agreed. "His power is enormous. We need to find your son immediately and question him. Sooner or later, he'll notice his increased powers. Better that he is told then he finds out on his own."

*

They found him in the library, having ditched his classes (not smart, as this was the day of end-of-the-year tests) and being surrounded by books on magical history. Harry looked up guiltily.

James approached first, smiling tightly. He gestured to the books. "A little late to study, isn't it?"

Harry looked down. "Oh." He shut his books but not before Dumbledore caught a glance at what the teen was looking at very recent history. Wondering about it, the headmaster directed a sharp look to the boy who looked like he was caught doing something illegal. "I was just... reading..."

"Harry, we need to talk to you," Lily said, voice pleading as she took a seat beside her only son. He wouldn't even look her in the eyes, face gone pale and stuck to the table. Frustrated, Lily reached forward and lifted his chin. "Harry?"

Startling them all, Harry was shaking and looked close to tears. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed with suspicious thought. James took up a seat beside his wife, concerned. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"N-nothing," the teen answered, stuttering slightly. "I'm fine. I just, I need to go to class."

"A little late for that, aren't you?" Dumbledore's cool voice said and Harry winced, further surprising them.

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted out, reaching for his books and his hands trembled. But a look at Dumbledore said that such an exit wouldn't be happening.

"Sit down, Harry," Dumbledore gently, a tone that hid his true suspicions. Years of war had not been easy on the headmaster and now, he couldn't even trust the son of his two greatest supporters. Harry sat down, keeping his head and eyes cast down as if he had recently come upon some ill-fated knowledge. The Harry he knew of two years was outgoing, to be sure because of James' influence, but he was also recklessly careless of his own safety, which was why the boy had probably gone straight down to save Ginny Weasley before consulting a professor. Gryffindor through-and-through, but then again, Harry had the slyness of a Slytherin.

"Harry," Lily looked wildly alarmed at her son's behavior. "We need to ask you something." Harry looked up but then, catching her eyes, looked down again. Distressed, Lily tried to soften her tone. "Just about last night, in the Chamber. We just... we just need to know what happened."

"We're not mad at you," James quickly added. "We just..."

To Harry, his words drained off to some speech better forgotten. In his head, a paragraph rang over and over: _In an ingenious plot, the Potters and two friends, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, came up with a plan to at once trick the Dark Lord and keep the Potters safe. Black would pretend to be the Secret Keeper of a Fidilius Charm cast over the Potters and would hide away himself. Pettigrew, however, would become the true Secret Keeper but, with the attention focused on Black, would remain safe. This plan worked up until 1987, when Black was finally captured by the Dark Lord and killed. Luckily..._

He had never thought Sirius could die. The idea was absurd, unrealistic, something worth a good laugh; Sirius was invincible. When he was asking Ron, he'd merely assumed that everyone was fine. But now...

"Please," Lily's voice was asking him but it rang hollow. "We're your parents." But little did she know that he had now lived in two dimensions where Sirius was the only true parent-model. "We're just worried about you." And now Sirius was dead. "Professor Dumbledore is worried about you, too." And in his place were two real parents--he wanted Sirius back.

James placed his hand on his wordless son's shoulder, effectively if unknowingly jerking Harry out of his lost thoughts. Harry looked up but again, the image of his father was too much and his eyes quickly went back down. "I-I can't remember much," Harry finally spoke. "Most of it's a blur."

"Then just tell us what you remember," Dumbledore ordered softly.

In the same soft tone, Harry's mind listed off his own memories of the Chamber of Secrets, a memory where Fawkes had done most of the work and where Harry had truly never thought Riddle was an enemy until too late. His mind was whirling, backlashing again with too many memories, with two different accounts now of the Chamber. No one seemed to notice him drifting.

"Nothing else happened?" Dumbledore asked when Harry's voice lapsed. Harry shook his head.

The headmaster gave the Potters a look and Lily paled. "Harry," she said softly, "we have to go, but we'll be back all right?"

"Don't go thinking you can ditch all your classes," James tried for humor but Harry still wasn't meeting his eyes. Perplexed, James led Lily from the library to call a meeting for the Order, a last-ditch measure to protect Hogwarts against Voldemort. Dumbledore clearly thought Harry was hiding something and he was determined to figure out what.

Dumbledore also left, leaving Harry alone in the library with the book that condemned his godfather to a meaningless death. His hands trembled and he fell asleep.

*

"Harry?" Someone touched his cheek and he stirred back to wakefulness. Ginny, red hair and freckles all, was watching him with concern but the concern drifted away to relief when she saw him wake up. "Are you all right?"

Harry nodded and exhaled slowly, letting his mind rearrange itself back to an order disrupted by chaotic dreams. "I'm fine. You?"

She blushed and lowered her gaze but nodded as well.

He was still in the library. Standing, Harry stretched aching muscles, popping protesting joints, and brushing away the sand in his eyes. "What time is it?"

"The library's about to close, and you missed dinner," she answered, getting to her feet as well. "I just saw you and thought you should know. Oh!" She reached into her robes and pulled out his dragon. "I found him. He's yours, right?"

The dragon apparently was very angry at Harry for being left behind. Harry managed a smile and nodded, grabbing it and holding it tight as memories reminded him what it could do when let free in the library. "Yea. Where was he?"

"Outside. When you...fainted," here her cheeks colored in a pretty blush, "no one knew what to do with it. So they just put it outside." The dragon hissed angrily at being reminded and struck a claw vengefully at Harry, catching his collar.

Harry laughed and batted its head before picking up his bags. "I guess we better go, huh?" She nodded. Just being in her presence seemed to calm his ragged nerves, giving him relief against a tyrannical chaos that wanted to ravage his mind. He passed the students, not even noticing their looks, ignored the artificial lights that brightened the halls in absence of open windows, and let his dragon soar, a reflection of his changed moods.

"You're happy," Ginny commented, then blushed again when he looked at her.

"I guess I am," he admitted slowly. "Just being with you makes me happy." The fifteen-year old (actually, now that he thought about it, he could reasonably claim to be twenty-three, if he wanted to add on the eight years he lived in the other dimension) stuck again in a younger body watched as Ginny's cheeks flamed even brighter and he smiled.

*

That night, after grabbing some food from the kitchens (Ginny had been startled to find out he knew where the kitchens were. Everyone thought only the twins knew that secret location) Harry tried to sleep but couldn't. An urge, an almost magical impulse really, was shoving its presence into his brain, forcing him to stay away. He tossed and turned in his bed and finally got up, throwing the curtains back, and looked around, looked for whatever the urge wanted him to see.

There wasn't anything in the dormitory so Harry angrily shoved to his feet and threw on his robes, stalking from the room. Unseen, his dragon, perched on his trunk, was disturbed enough to wakefulness and croaked its mouth open. Seeing Harry leaving like a storm cloud, the dragon lazily stretched its wins open and got up, preferring to crawl after the teenage boy. Its talons clicked loudly on the floor.

Harry cuddled up on a chair, staring deeply into the hypnotizing fire--almost as hypnotizing as the charm. Harry felt a burst of shame at using his friend so, but it couldn't be helped. Clicking noises on the floor drew his attention and he glanced down with a start only to see his dragon trailing after him like a golden puppy.

"Come here." He leaned over and picked it up, stroking its scales, careful not to accidentally poke a finger on the sharp spikes. His thoughts deepened and he looked down to the dragon. "What do you think about all this?" he whispered. "Voldemort's had twelve more years here than he did back home. Do you think he's stronger?" His fingers traveled up on their own will, tracing the marked skin on his forehead with a wonder. "And what about that potion? It brought you with me, and even left me with my scar."

The dragon, tired down to docility, yawned again, ignoring him as it settled into his lap, eyes reflecting the fire's flame. Its chest heaved up and down with heavy breathing and the soft lisp on its breathing drew Harry to sleep like a mother's lullaby, making him discard his worries to the fire that warmed them both.

Outside the Fat Lady's portrait, Dumbledore wearily walked towards the Gryffindor common room, forced to pause every few steps to gather and re-gather his energies. Outside, Voldemort's forces raged and somehow, Dumbledore knew the Dark Lord had heard of Harry's recent bulges of powers and wanted the secret to those power surges for his own dark purposes.

The Fat Lady, jostled awake by his presence, smiled respectfully when he told her the password and swung open. He paused again before starting up the stairs but during that pause, Dumbledore spotted the student he was in search of, sleeping peacefully on the couch. Fire cast their shadows on his and he looked much older than his twelve years. Of course, everyone looked older as this war waged on, taxing life and vitality, but the image of the student before him was so suddenly changed that Dumbledore felt his dark suspicions rising up again, urging him to put a stop to the boy's future violence before it was too late. Only one other student had ever brought such madness to Dumbledore's instincts, and that student was Tom Riddle. 

Chill rested in his bones and Dumbledore for a moment thought of following his instincts before reason stopped him. Harry Potter was an innocent in the war, an innocent who for some reason gave off power like heat wave, but that did not in itself call for the boy's death.

Dumbledore walked slowly over to the sleeping child, feeling kind waves replace the quick feeling of hate. He had always felt unnaturally close to the boy, but such ties could be used in times as dark as these, so instead of mentoring the boy as he wished, Dumbledore treated Harry as no one especially special. And as a result, Voldemort's interest in the boy faded down to a manageable whisper.

Harry stirred, face wrinkling in the throes of a nightmare. On his lap, the creature from before, attached to the boy, also let out a hiss. The dragon's presence also drew questions: how did Harry, only a second-year, manage to conjure up a familiar, and what power source did he draw upon to sustain the creature's life?

With a shout, Harry snapped awake from nightmare-stained sleep, jerking upright with force enough to strip the dragon of its lap and send it tumbling to the floor. The dragon blinked in shock then yawned, painfully crawling up Harry's leg again, letting its talons lightly poke the skin in retaliation. Harry, shivering, wiped his eyes and reached for the pair of glasses that had absently been left upstairs on his dresser. With a mental shrug, Harry leaned back into the chair, sighing in relief as the dream faded to leave him clueless as to what it was about.

His dragon suddenly snapped its head up and hissed at the unannounced man, recognizing the face but not the persona behind it, knowing that while this man looked like the kindly old headmaster, it was a different person who wished Harry harm. Harry glanced over and started at the sight of Dumbledore.

"Headmaster-"

"You're up late, Harry," Dumbledore said, looking around. Harry fidgeted.

"I couldn't sleep," he replied honestly.

Dumbledore nodded sagely and took a seat, looking away from Harry and into the comforting fire. After a minute where only the dragon's soft growling hisses, Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, I've come here because, to be honest, I think you're lying."

"What-"

Dumbledore held up a hand and shook his head. "No. Let me speak. For one thing, you speak of Fawkes healing you with his tears, but I know for a fact that Fawkes healed Ginny."

Harry swallowed, having forgotten about that difference in his memories.

"I'm also concerned with the fact that again, your power has increased." Dumbledore looked him steadily in the eye. "Madam Pomfrey has recorded that you're power scale is greater than it was the last time you were in the hospital wing. Because of this significant fact, I'm forced to acknowledge that you're either lying to me or you're memory has been tampered with. And because I've seen no evidence of a memory charm, I'm only left with one alternative."

Dumbledore's face turned grave. "Harry, if you don't give me a reasonable explanation, I'll be forced to call the Ministry."

"What?" Harry shouted, outraged. "Call the Ministry? About what?"

"You have just faced down an image of Tom Riddle," Dumbledore answered, voice seething. "Yet you come back with no wounds. Why? Did Riddle recognize you as an ally and release you?"

Harry's mouth moved as he fought for words before shouting back, "What?"

"I've given you warning," Dumbledore's anger drained down to the eternal weariness that followed him. "You can either heed my advice or face down a Wizard's Trial."

Again, Harry was stunned to silence, eyes wide and mouth gaping at the headmaster, outrage reflected on his face and a twisted sense of betrayal in his eyes. Dumbledore turned back to the fire and ignored both the boy and his familiar's hisses, knowing that the choice lay in the hands of a twelve-year old who probably lacked true understanding of the charges lain against him.

Finally, Harry sighed, letting the sound reflect all his frustrations and angers. He threw himself back against the seat and curled his legs up beneath him, anger floating off him as he seethed. "What do you want to know?"

"Exactly what happened," Dumbledore replied simply. "You face down a fifth-year, or at least the echo of one, but I doubt any normal second-year could accomplish that feat."

"You don't think that I, a second year, could beat Riddle?" Harry rephrased and Dumbledore nodded, eyes still on the fire. "All right. What about a seventh-year? Or a graduated student?" At Dumbledore's questioningly look, Harry bit his lip but forced himself on. "What about a seventh-year stuck in a second-year body?"

"Harry, stop talking in riddles."

"All right, but I'm warning you, you're not going to believe me." Harry leaned deeper into the seat and closed his eyes. "I really am Harry Potter, but the thing is that I'm not you're Harry Potter. See, I'm supposed to be in my fifth year at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore didn't look at all convinced and even as Harry spoke of the failed potion, hinting to a time spent in another dimension, a dimension he wanted to return to, Dumbledore's expression didn't change. Harry pulled from his pocket a sheet of paper.

"Here," he handed the paper over. "I wrote the potion down as soon as I could, so I wouldn't forget."

Dumbledore didn't even take the paper. He only stared at the boy before him, expressionless, and slowly stood. "That will not be necessary," he said, waving the paper away, and stopping to look over Harry once more. "This... I will need some time..."

Harry forced a smile, swallowing at the lack of trust between student and professor, and cheerfully replied, "That's all right. I'll need some time to get used to this dimension, too."

"Yes." Dumbledore's eyes turned thoughtful before blanking out again, and Harry almost squirmed, hating to see such lack of trust with the man who had always trusted him before. Dumbledore blinked and shook his head. "I suggest that you tell no one of this. As of yet, I'm not convinced that you're telling the truth, so I warn you not to do anything more to disrupt my trust in you."

Trust, Harry wanted to scoff angrily, trying to hide the hurt he was feeling. You don't trust me at all. Why? Why don't you trust me?

The old professor sighed and turned away. "Good night, Harry. If you are speaking truth, then something truly marvelous has occurred, something that might help us win this battle against Voldemort.

As the portrait swung shut behind the professor's back, Harry collapsed against the chair. "Voldemort was the reason I came here," he muttered to himself, the dragon crooning in support. "Am I never going to be free of him?" He groaned and stuffed his face into a pillow, imagining the universe laughing at him for trying to escape his unwanted destiny.

He fell asleep then, with the haunting picture of Dumbledore's hate-filled eyes tormenting his sleep. The dragon let out a hiss of anger and curled up on the boy's lap, determined not to let his master suffer anymore.

*

'This is sooo boring,' Harry moaned to himself, feeling ready to hit his head against a wall as he wandered about the school of Hogwarts, his only companion the golden dragon that was perched on his shoulder. The dragon cawed, tail swishing in boredom as well which was never a good sign. 'I want to go back home. I bet Sirius is worried and it's almost time for the full moon--I think, can't really tell with all the windows boarded up--so Remus is probably resting and Sirius is destroying the house and Dumbledore is getting ready for Ron and Hermione's first year and...'

'Wait a second, that's not my real home!' The thought shocked him. His real home was in his first dimension, living with the Dursleys for his childhood years and then going to Hogwarts with his two best friends, having his own House and not being shuffled around because the Sorting Hat couldn't choose a house for him. 'But I liked the other dimension better,' he thought to himself a little bitterly, preferring the careless childhood with Sirius to the downright torturous one with the Dursleys. He paused, wondering what he'd do if he could choose between the two: Sirius and Remus, or Hermione and Ron.

He paused so suddenly that his dragon fell over, barely getting its wings out in time to prevent it from slamming against the ground. Growling in annoyance, the little thing flew over Harry's head, into the suit of armor leaning against the wall, nearly toppling it over on Harry.

"Hey!" Harry jumped out of the way. "Jeez, do you always gotta be so mean?" His dragon seemed to snicker, flying on ahead and Harry frowned playfully. "I don't think so! You're not getting away that easily!" His wand flashed out and he sent a harmless globe of white light flying towards the dragon, crashing into it and turnings its scales a nasty shade of blue.

Outraged, the dragon hissed and clawed at its funky scales, trying to claw the color out buts its claws scraped uselessly against its thick scales and in the end the dragon glared unhappily at its owner.

Harry laughed and shook his head, shaking a finger at the dragon. "It's your own fault. You started it."

They wandered about and finally Harry had enough. "Argh!" he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm getting out of here!"

In this universe, there wasn't really a summer seeing, as how no one could really leave the school. Classes went on and on and on, like an endless cycle of lectures and homework. It was mind boggling, but Harry guessed the other students would rather put up with it instead of trying to survive outside for the two summer months. Unlike the other students, however, Harry wasn't born and brought up in this system, and being so bound in one place was driving him mad.

His dragon crooned to him, sensing his thoughts and agreeing, wanting some fresh air and open space to stretch its wings.

"But..." Harry frowned, putting his chin in his hand as he thought. "How to get out?"

"Get out where?"

Harry spun around to see no one other than Ginny Weasley, face pale but paleness was something Harry was used to seeing in everyone's faces from lack of natural sunlight. Blinking in surprise, Harry said, "Er... no where?"

"Like I believe that, Harry Potter," Ginny shot back, hands on her hips, manner instantly familiar. Everyone was familiar with each other; you lived with your classmates all year, every year for seven years. Closer than family, at times. With one exception: himself. Since he'd miraculously 'seen' Hermione's family being attacked, he was avoided at all costs. Harry frowned. Why was he always the exception to the rule? He just wanted to be normal once in awhile.

Seeing him frown, Ginny instantly backed off. "I'm sorry," she apologized, hands slipping down and looking contrite.

Harry smiled easily at her and shook his head. "For what?" Without giving her time to answer, he lifted up his arm and his dragon swooped down and Harry glanced around secretively before answering Ginny's question truthfully. "I'm getting out of here," he whispered. "Out of Hogwarts."

Her eyes widened. "But Harry! You can't!"

"Shh!" He looked around again and stepped closer to her. "I can and I will. I just have to find a way."

"But... but why Harry? What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt?" Her eyes were watering with fear already.

"Don't worry about me," he answered bravely. "I've got my protection right here." His dragon screeched proudly, head held high.

Ginny shook her head and turned to go. "I'm going to tell your parents," she hissed at him. "It's too dangerous-"

"I'll bring you back something," Harry promised, stopping her in her tracks. How often had Hogwarts students wished to go outside, wished to see how the world was and to see everyday things like flowers and clouds. And now her wish was about to be granted. Ginny's breath caught in her throat, half-frightened by the knowledge that Harry would risk such danger and half overwhelmed with desire. She was too young to completely understand the danger, no matter how often she'd heard of it, and since her life was relatively untouched by darkness, the concept of finally seeing something from the outside world was just too tempting to pass off.

"All right," she conceded, "but I'm coming with you."

"You can't," Harry replied instantly. "You're only a first year."

"You're only a second."

"No I'm... well, I guess I am," Harry admitted with a smile, "but I have someone to protect me."

Ginny looked to the dragon and answered with a determinedness that couldn't be forestalled, "It can protect both of us." The dragon, having heard enough of both arguments, swooped up and did a circle round Harry's head, and the boy sighed.

"All right." He looked around again to make sure no one was nearby, and motioned for her to follow. "Come with me. I know a secret way out."

They trailed down the halls, pausing to hide when someone walked by, and carefully made it to the old witch statue halfway down the third-floor corridor. Ginny looked about expectantly but just as Harry was about to pull out his wand, two voices came towards them.

"You don't think anyone's figured out about those secret passages, do you Fred?"

"Naw. Besides, if they did, they'd be boarded up by now."

The twins, paler than Harry had ever seen them, came tromping down the corridor and it was all that he could do to pull Ginny into the shadows and watch. The twins looked around but not thoroughly enough to see the two underclassmen, and Fred pulled out his wand, tapping it on the witch's hump. "Dissendium," he announced, and the hump opened wide.

"It's going to be a pretty tight fit for us when we get older," Fred joked.

"Well, that's a bit of good news. This way, only small people can get through," George said thoughtfully, putting his hand through the hole. "See," he looked back to his brother, "nothing to worry about. No one's been down this passage since the last time we checked. All my wards are still up."

Fred looked in the hole and stuck his own hand in, yelping. He pulled the hand back, rubbing the red skin but grinning. "Check on the statue, then." The brothers back away as the hunched witch closed the entrance, and then they started off again. "What's next?"

"Let's see, it's about time to check on that old passage way down by the Slytherin common room," George answered, voice getting fainter and fainter as they walked further away.

Harry almost cursed. For the twins to know about the statue, they'd have to have found the map, and if they had the map, they'd see that one Harry Potter and one Virginia Weasley were currently standing by the witch's hump, prepared to sneak away. Still, though, now that his frustration faded away, it was good to know that at least _someone_ was keeping track of the passages, and such vigilance was easily evaded if someone knew how.

"What were they doing?" Ginny asked, a little frightened at being so close to discovery.

Harry turned to her, finding her eyes in the shadows. "They know about the passages, and are making sure no one's using them to get inside the castle."

"Oh." Her eyes widened. "So, we can't go, can we?"

"Of course we can," Harry scoffed, already stepping from the shadows and getting close to the witch. He almost felt like rubbing his hands in delight at the challenge. "We just have to make sure that they don't find out."

"Harry," Ginny reminded him seriously, "Fred and George are two years older than you are. You're not seriously suggesting that we try to outdo their spells, are you?"

Harry only grinned in reply before tapping the witch's hump, repeating the magic word. When the crack appeared, the dragon almost immediately swooned down to go through the familiar passageway, but Harry grabbed its tail just in time. "Wait a second, will you?" he chided, pushing it aside in the air as he glanced into the dark entrance. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel the magic waves now that he knew they were down there. Invoking on a charm he learned in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, the second year muttered the words that would let him see what spells were hidden in his view.

Thin red lines crisscrossed in every which way, covering the secret entrance and highlighted by further dark blue lines, lines he had to strain his eyes to see.

"Ah," Harry leaned back. "They've got a couple really good pain charms down there, as well as a spell that'll let them know if anyone's tried to go by."

Ginny's eyes widened, and she proceeded to look between the empty entrance and Harry in shock. "How'd you do that?" she finally asked.

"Magic," he grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, well I know that, but seriously Harry."

He went back to the entrance and went ahead to start unbinding the spells. "I'll just cancel them out for a second," he narrated to her. "Just long enough for us to pass through. I'll have to do it again when we're coming back, but it's safer than taking the spells off altogether." As soon as he was done speaking, he was done with the magic, and he hurriedly grabbed her hand. "Come on, we've got to hurry."

Ginny nodded and the two descended into the darkened hall. Harry barely managed to grab the dragon's tail and yank it down with him before the spells were reactivated, and he let out a sigh of relief before grinning again.

"Lumos," Ginny whispered, her wand out, lighting the way before them.

Harry reactivated the charm, unsure of whether those two spells were the only ones the twins placed down here, and was rewarded with a spider web of magical traps. "Woah," he murmured quietly, looking around. "This will take a second."


	8. 7

****

** Dimension Wander **

By Tvillinger

****

Life Two -- Part Two 

Sunlight was the reward for their patience and effort. Pure, unaltered sunlight that tickled her face and made her breath catch in her throat. She could hardly breath, but when she did she nearly fell over in ecstasy. So clean, so fresh, air like heaven when compared to the staleness of the castle, compared to the staleness she never realized before. She stood tall, stretching her arms toward the sun and basked.

Beside her, Harry smiled, releasing the dry to fly ecstatic circles in the air.

His smile was forced.

After about an hour's labor of slowly canceling out the twins' spells long enough to pass them, he felt that his work had brought a rather depressing reward. Hogsmeade was completely ruined. The two, coming up from beneath the trap door in Honeydukes, had to push away broken chairs, shattered glass, and what seemed like a lifetime of dust to even open the store's front door. Ginny hadn't noticed. She had probably never known what a happy, alive place the village was, having been born into dark times and living in them her entire life, but to Harry it was the stuff of nightmares.

Stepping out into the town itself almost made him sick with horror.

Decay was everywhere and the magical village was like a ghost town. He should have expected this, or at least something like this, but he didn't, and seeing the destruction was like a physical blow. Hogsmeade, to him, had always been a happy place, a place where wizards could just mingle together without fear, where they could get roaring drunk and sing off tune while everyone else laughed. That's what it had been like before, when he was visiting with his friends. Of course, they never let him drink; they always said he was too young-

Another dimension, Harry reminded himself.

Everything was burned down or ready to collapse as the two students carefully made their way down the ruined streets. Ginny, eyes wide, hardly noted the destruction, too busy looking at the sky or squinting towards the sun, too amazed at the outside world but Harry was noting each and every object with a heavy weight in his stomach. Even if he had guessed before what the damage could have been like, he wouldn't have been prepared for it. Nothing could prepare him for this.

'It's what happens when something goes wrong by going right,' the thought snickered at him. 'It's what would've happened if your parents lived.'

There wasn't a living soul in sight, only swarms of flies and maggots, only legions of rats and snakes. And though no bodies were lying in open view, his nose wrinkled at the smell of death that corrupted what could have been clear air.

'At least there's no bodies,' he thought gratefully, not knowing how Ginny would've reacted when coming out of the castle for the first time just to be confronted by the sight of bodies littered across the ground. He winced as one of the nearby buildings groaned, dangerously close to collapse, and glanced over to the overjoyed Ginny. 'And at least she's happy.'

They walked around, Ginny oblivious to the expression on Harry's face as he got sicker and sicker, looking at the ruins and remembering the old building's inhabitants. An old lady who used to sell the best cookies, Madam Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks, Mr. Zonka's and his crazy inventions... There were too many faces, and finally he turned to Ginny. "Let's go somewhere else," he suggested, touching her arm and grabbing the drifting dragon's tail, apparating before she could even respond.

The two twinkled out of existence, not knowing that a pair of eyes had watched them.

*

"I can tell your expressions," the dark voice was saying as a single rat scurried into the room, "that nothing has been accomplished."

"My Lord, we have done almost everything you've asked-"

"Silence! Almost means nothing to me. Either you have completed your task, or you will suffer the consequences." There was a pause as everyone knew what was going to happen. "Very well."

The rat transformed back to a human just as torturous screams filled the air, and he cowered in the back, not wanting to give his report until the screams had stopped, not wanting to risk even the slightest bit of pain. When the screams finally stopped and all that was left was harsh breathing, Peter finally took a half step forward.

The crowds of Death Eaters parted, not wanting to be nearby if the rat brought bad news. Peter kneeled on the floor, so low that his forehead almost touched the ground and he could see his sweat drip from his forehead to puddle on the cold stone. "I bring news." Voldemort, sitting high above the rest in his chair of frozen stone, didn't bat an eye as he waited for his spy to continue. "Two students have broken out of Hogwarts-"

The Death Eaters started jeering, making a tumult of racket that drowned the rest of Peter's words out. Students, breaking out of Hogwarts? What kind of idiots would do such a thing? But they quickly quieted when Voldemort raised his head to stare at Peter. "Who?" the man asked in his quiet, dangerous voice.

Now Peter shivered. He'd only barely noticed the students before they left, and now that he thought about it they couldn't be who he really thought they were. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. "I-I didn't see, master. They had the ability to apparate and were gone before I could catch them."

"Apparate?" Voldemort repeated, lips turned up into a wicked smile. "Well, seventh years?" He stood, black robes sweeping up behind him like majestic wings, and paced down the stairs. The Death Eaters parted again, all dropping to the floor as he came and left, and all watching with curious eyes. Voldemort didn't stop as he called out, "Lucius, Severus, come to me."

Two Death Eaters stood and followed, as well as Peter.

As Voldemort walked past the doors and rounded a corner, he stopped at a suit of armor. His castle had been shaped after Hogwarts, a demented and dark version of the ancient school and one that he felt very much at home in. The suit of armor carefully saluted and moved, letting Voldemort into the entrance behind it. His three Death Eaters followed.

"This news comes at the best of timing, Wormtail," he called behind his shoulder, smirking when he heard the rat give a whimper. He led them through the passage with a slow expectancy, knowing that all had craved to enter this place for their own purposes. Lucius to see what secrets were hidden down here, Wormtail to prove his worth to Voldemort, and Severus... Yes, and Severus, Voldemort thought to himself, glancing back to the Potions Master. Severus wanted to gain more information to feed the old fool back at school.

The rat squeaked some reply and Voldemort laughed, pausing to turn around and face his servant. "What timing, you ask? How could you not know?" He turned and started walking again but continued his conversation. "If these two you saw truly are students, seventh years at Hogwarts, then they surely know a way to get back into the school seeing as how they've gotten out of it." He turned one last corner and could see his servants becoming apprehensive at the glow coming from the other end of the room. "And if they know that information, they will certainly be willing to share the knowledge with us."

'Which is more than you can,' Voldemort snarled as he looked back at Severus. The professor, in order to engage in his spying duties, had set up a certain system with Dumbledore, a passageway in and out of the castle that, unfortunately, would only allow him to pass through. If anyone else tried to enter through this way, the passage would alight with spells and curses, even collapsing if its magic didn't stop the intruder. Voldemort knew; he had tried to pass through already, and the escapade had cost him a dozen of his men.

Severus was no longer truly a spy; he was a delegate between the two warring powers, the only contact old Dumbledore had of the outside world, the only contact Voldemort had of the inside of Hogwarts.

As if the professor knew what he was thinking about, Severus turned and faced Voldemort. It was quite funny, Voldemort thought to himself as he looked the Potions Master back in the eye, starting a staring contest between the two, that the only person who could stand to look him in the eye more than a moment was the person he trusted least. Severus looked away first after a few moments at a sound coming from down the hall towards the light, and Voldemort motioned for them to go on without him.

He knew what they would find: the broken bones and bodies of countless individuals, the infamous torture chambers of this castle, but that wasn't what he had brought them down for. It was the map hung to the wall with its glowing dots, dots that represented legions of Death Eaters and Dark Creatures, all preparing themselves about the school of Hogwarts, all preparing themselves for the greatest of battles. He trailed in after a second, careful to keep his robes clean of the bloody floor and noting with distaste that none of the three had done the same.

They stood with open mouths, and he nearly laughed aloud at them. Did they never realize how powerful he was, how ready he was to take over the world and accomplish that which he had set out to do? What kind of fools were they to miss the many hints, the many signs he'd dropped?

"As you can see," he started, making them all jump and spin around to face him, "even if we don't catch those two students, our forces will soon overwhelm even Dumbledore. But having a secret way in would be," he licked his lips in anticipation at the thought, "most rewarding."

He dropped his head for a moment, thinking of the future and past, skipping over the present time, then began to lead them from his planning area and past the guarding knight who saluted again. "Tell everyone," he murmured before dismissing the group, "that the reward for catching the two students will be greater than imagination." The three nodded. "You may go--except for you, Severus. I need to discuss some matters with you." The three bowed and soon only Severus remained.

Voldemort motioned with a hand. "Come."

They stared around the corner, walking through the castle and for a moment he let nothing but silence enter the conversation, but finally spoke as he noticed the professor's eyebrow twitching. "I needed to ask you if anything has been discovered about the boy's power."

Who 'the boy' was wasn't a question to either of them. Severus looked up for a moment then looked back down in thought. "No," he answered softly after a pause. "The headmaster had his suspicions and went to talk to the boy, but now doesn't say anything."

"What suspicions?" Voldemort asked immediately. "The diary?"

"Yes. He knew what was on it, though not how it got into the school."

"Of course not." Severus seemed to wince. "You enjoy your reward."

"Yes," came the immediate, expected answer. Anything less would have brought down tremendous consequences on the unsatisfied victim.

"He suspects the boy, then, of becoming dark?" A nod, and Voldemort grinned. "What a foolish idea."

Severus whirled about, staring at Voldemort in disbelief. "Then it's not true?"

The Dark Lord shook his head. "What use would I have of another Gryffindor? The one I have now is trouble enough." He stopped and examined the Potions Master. "However, I do expect more from you next time. I will call one last meeting before the final battle, and by that time I wish to know the secret of the boy's power increase." It was an order and a threat mixed together.

Severus bowed low. "Yes, master." Then he left, taking the silence as a leave to go.

*

The earth and sky were only gone for about a second, but when they came back into sight, Ginny screamed and fell down. At her scream, the golden dragon took off in the air, snapping sharp jaws in reproof and annoyance.

Alarmed, Harry tried to help her up. "Ginny, what's wrong?"

She looked at him with wide-open eyes, fear written within them. "What did you do?" she screeched, backing away from him when he tried to help her up. "Who are you?"

Harry frowned in confusion. "Who do you think I am?" he asked. "Harry."

"You're not Harry. Harry doesn't know how to apparate."

"Ohhhh." Harry's forehead wrinkled and he cautiously took a seat beside the frightened Weasley. "That's right." She glared at him, scooting away and Harry helplessly spread his arms out. "I guess I do know." Above, the dragon spiraled, then shot after a bird. Harry glanced at it, scowling. "Look at it," he pointed the golden speck out. "You'd think it could have some courtesy and at least thank me for bringing it along."

"Liar!" Ginny jumped to her feet and took off.

They'd apparated to a clearing at the top of a small hill, overlooking a valley green and bright and full of life. Harry had tried to apparate to where his family's house was supposed to be, the house that Sirius and Remus had modified slightly, but there was nothing in the clearing. Butterflies twirled happily, and bees buzzed, but it might has well been an alien planet with no sign of human contact.

Ginny ran down the hill towards the creek, but Harry took a moment to take in the area. He scratched the back of his head. "Must not have been enough time with the war," he murmured to himself, before yelling out to Ginny, "Wait up!"

She didn't, of course. She kept on running until she stumbled and rolled head over hills the rest of the way. Harry, from his view point at the top of the hill, let out a burst of laughter, clutching at his sides before almost reluctantly trotting down the hill after her. "Ginny? You all right?"

"Get away from me!" she shouted, scurrying to her feet with a branch held out threateningly before her.

Harry held his arms in the air, trying to keep an innocent expression on his face. "Ginny, it's me. Harry. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You can't be Harry," the redhead countered passionately. When he took a step forward, she swung the branch out. "Stay back, I'm warning you-"

"What exactly do you think you're going to do with that?" Harry shot back, getting exasperated. "Here," he motioned with his hands, summoning the branch, "give me that. Now, will you calm down?"

Ginny gave him a tearful expression and her legs collapsed beneath her. "I'm going to die, aren't I?" she asked in a quiet, whimpering voice.

Harry rolled his eyes, tossing the branch out of reach, and he took a seat beside the panicked first year. "Of course not. You're being a little silly, but when you calm down I'm sure you'll realize how funny this whole situation is."

"But you can't be Harry," Ginny continued to protest, shivering. "I can see it all now. Harry's only twelve, so he couldn't have been able to fight Tom. And he wouldn't know how to get past all those traps the twins set." She clenched her hands into fists so hard the skin paled. "How could I have been so stupid?"

Harry frowned lightly, not knowing how to get Ginny out of her phase. What in the world was wrong with her? At least she'd calmed down enough to stop threatening him. With a tree branch, of all things! He spotted a purple daisy growing nearby, looking as if it had barely escaped Ginny's tumble down the hill, and with deliberate gentleness, he plucked it from the ground. "Here, you said you wanted a flower. At least I can give you this much, even if you don't believe I'm who I am."

"Thank you," she muttered absently, taking the flower from his hands; hers were shaking with fear.

He sighed and laid back in the grass. "You're ruining this, you know," he bluntly informed her. "I was planning a nice getaway from that stuffy castle, and now here I am feeling guilty for bringing you along."

The dragon gave up its predatory chase and spiraled back to the ground, fluttering into the grass with an elegant landing. Its jaws snapped at the four leaf clovers, catching a mouthful of seeds instead. With a howl, the dragon's talons clawed at the earth vengefully. Harry picked up a clover and tossed it at the creature, softly hitting it square between the eyes. "Stop that."

"Mum's going to miss me," Ginny went on faintly, eyes glued to the flower in her hands. "She'll probably get really angry, though, because she always told me to be careful. When she finds out I've gone out of the castle with a stranger, she'll say it's my own fault." Her face grew remorseful. "I bet Ron will steal my favorite blanket. He's always wanted it because of how soft it was, even if he says he likes it because of the colors."

Harry snorted, then he stretched and stood up, brushing the grass from his clothes. He looked down at the pale girl. "Listen, I don't know why you've gone all this way, but I'm not going to waste my time out here with just sitting around." He looked across the valley, eyes picking out the creek with the giant tree leaning over, a sort of natural diving board. The dragon, growling angrily at Harry, had settled into a curled up ball, obviously intending to settle down for a long nap. Pointing at the tree, he told her, "If you want me, I'm going to be swimming. Come and join me at anytime. I'm betting the water's better than at Hogwarts."

Ginny didn't give any sign that she'd even heard him, so Harry shrug and took off towards the creek, transfiguring his clothes into a nice set of swimming trunks. He whistled, and the dragon looked up lazily, not wanting to interrupt its sun snooze, but it reluctantly spread its wings and soared towards him.

Harry laughed, climbing up the tree's limbs with an energy that sparked. The castle's walls and enclosures behind him, he enjoyed the bright sun and the fresh air, things he'd previously taken for granted. Jumping into the water was like jumping into an enormous bath, washing off the dirt of stuffy air and tasteless food. The dragon stopped short and let out a sort of barking hiss, jumping from the air to cling to the tree and avoid the splashed water. It flicked its tail at Harry, crawling up to the highest branch.

Ginny slowly stood, her legs wobbly, and she stared at him with an incredulous expression. "What do you think you're doing?" she called out. He didn't answer, taking too much delight in spreading his legs and arms out as far as they could go. Her face turned stony, Ginny stomped over to the creek and stood at its edge, hands on her hips. "Don't you know it's not safe to be out here? There could be Death Eaters right over the hill, coming towards us!"

Harry laughed, splashing at her and ducking under the water when she squealed. Coming back up, he met her anger frown with a grin. "I thought you didn't trust me," he teased. The dragon coiled its tail around the tree branch, watching the interchange with interest.

She huffed, looking away with a blush. "I don't, but I've decided that if you weren't Harry, you'd have tried to kill me by now. Besides, you're the only way back into the castle that I have. But," she fixed him with a glare, "you've better have an explanation for all the stuff you can do. A second year can't do all that."

Harry shrugged. "All right, but you have to come swimming with me first."

"What!"

He nodded, grinning brightly. "Come on! Either you jump in willingly, or I'll toss you in."

Ginny nervously bit her lip. "But Harry, I can't swim."

"Really?" At her nod, he thoughtfully leaned back in the water. "I'll teach you. I promise you won't drown."

A bit hesitantly, Ginny transfigured her own clothing into a swimsuit and took a few steps into the creek before shivering and backing off. "It's freezing!"

"That's the fun part," Harry told her. "It's so cold, you've got no choice but to keep moving or you'll freeze to death."

"You're lying!" she accused, but started back into the creek, one foot at a time until she was up to her hips, shivering at how cold it was. Harry ducked half his face under the water, hiding a grin as he sent a great splash up.

Ginny gasped, trying to jump back but she only succeeding in tripping herself and falling backwards into the water. "Harry!"

He swam off, laughing as she dogpaddled towards him, struggling hard to keep her head above water. Harry watched her a moment with a critical eye, then he glided towards her, gently grabbing hold of one arm. "Here, don't put so much effort into straining your neck, or you'll get tired real quick." He ran a hand across her shoulders, straightening her muscles out. "Try it like this."

A few minutes later, Ginny was paddling water like a pro, a grin on her face. "Harry! I'm swimming!"

"I can see," he answered, smiling as well. She learned quickly.

"I've never swam before--I've never even been near a river or lake."

He nodded, then glided towards her again. "Try to swim like this," he suggested, automatically reaching his hand out to adjust her body. He brushed against her stomach, then froze, a blush on his face as he realized exactly where his hand was. Ginny paused in her paddling as well, cheeks turning a light pink. But in stopping her swimming, she abruptly began to sink, and Harry was treated to an all-out splashing as Ginny regained her balance on the water, so he swam out of the waves' reach.

Both were silent, and Harry cleared his throat before muttering, "You're doing really good, Ginny." He was looking down at the water.

"Thanks," she replied, still blushing as she paddled. The dragon up above croaked out a bite of laughter, and she glared at it. "Go away!" she ordered, splashing at it. The dragon stretched out its wings, still grinning a ferocious grin, and it settled out on the grass, croaking its laughter. "Stupid dragon."

Harry laughed, and she turned on him, glaring. "What's so funny?"

He immediately blushed, ducking his head under water as she splashed him.

*

A few hours later, both were lying out on the grass, letting the sun slowly bake away any water still on their swimsuits. Ginny turned her head toward Harry, a questioning expression on her face. "Are you going to tell me, then?" she asked.

"Tell you what?"

"How you know all that…" She motioned a hand, trying to incorporate all that she'd seen him do. "You promised you would."

"Ohh." Harry leaned back into his elbows, looking up to the sky. The sun was beginning its decent, and soon they'd have to go back or they'd be missed. If they weren't already. But he didn't feel like going anywhere; being here was as peaceful as he'd ever felt, and going back to Hogwarts would break that peace. "I thought I already did."

"No you didn't."

Harry frowned and rolled over to face her. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I remember telling you in that room behind the picture. You know, before Ron and Hermione showed up."

"Ron and who?"

Harry's eyes went wide and he hurriedly rolled to his back. "Um… nothing. Just forget that last part."

Ginny sat up and frowned at him. "You know, this is getting very confusing, Harry Potter. What picture? And who's Hermione?" Her frown deepened. "You better tell me, or I'll tell Dumbledore."

"You don't have to," Harry said, making up a story in his mind. "He already knows. See… um… well, what happened is that Dumbledore thought that I could use some extra training, thought I should be prepared."

She raised an eyebrow. "And why would he do that? It's against school rules, and Dumbledore is too busy to train anyone personally."

"That's what he wants everyone to think!" Harry shot out triumphantly. He relaxed, letting a lazy smile come over his face. "See, he knew that someday or other, I'm going to do something really important, and even though he doesn't want to tell me what he's trying to pet me prepared. And with everyone thinking that he's too busy, no one even begins to suspect."

"And when does he do this?" Ginny demanded, still looking suspicious. "My father once told me that Dumbledore is so busy everyday with the war, he barely has five minutes to himself."

"He has a time turner," Harry quickly explained, picking the first thing that came to his mind. "So once a week, he goes back in time and spends a couple hours teaching me." He grinned, looking Ginny in the eye. "So no matter how full his day is, as long as he has five minutes, he can spend a few hours teaching me. But I'd appreciate that you didn't go around telling everyone this. Who knows what they'd do if everyone found out."

"Who knows, indeed," a third voice murmured quietly.

Harry spun around so fast, the grass seemed to burn his knee. Standing before them was a haggard-looking teenager with his wand out, pointing at the two Hogwarts students. The heavy black robes the teen was wearing didn't seem to bother him, even with the sun's heat, and he motioned at the two of them. "Get up."

"Well, shit," Harry cursed, getting to his feet. "There goes my day." Ginny blinked at him, and her face paled again enough for Harry to realize that she'd gotten burned. The heat on his skin made him wonder if he was sunburned as well. Both scrambled to their feet, shaking the sand off their swimsuits, and the teen examined them.

"Now, what are two students doing out of Hogwarts when the castle is under siege?' the stranger asked with a tone of voice that suggested he really didn't care to know the answer.

Harry looked at the stranger a moment, trying to place the familiar face, and suddenly a name popped into his head. He unthinkingly grinned and took a step forward. "Dale! I almost didn't recognize you!"

Dale Ohno, who had been a seventh year the last time Harry saw him, narrowed his eyes and raised his wand higher when Harry moved, but when his name was said, Dale looked shocked. "Who are you?" he demanded, eyes narrowing further.

"How many times are my friends going to ask me that?" Harry wondered as if to himself, much to the surprise of Ginny and Dale. He grinned again, tilting his head. "It's me, Harry. Remember?" At Dale's expression, Harry's own faltered, then crumbled into resentment. "Ah, that's right. Of course you don't know me." He sighed, shaking his head. "What else can go wrong?" Then he took in the dark robes again, and shook his head. "Forget I asked."

"H-Harry?" Ginny's voice trembled, and she swallowed when Dale turned his glare on her. "Wh-what do you want?"

Dale seemed to consider her question, then shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. You, twerp," he turned to Harry, "are you going to tell me how you know my name?"

"Know you're name?" Harry looked scandalized. "Why would the great Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Savior of the Modern Wizarding World as we know it, consort with Death Eaters?" Ginny gasped, her eyes going wide for a second before she collapsed in the grass.

Chuckling, Dale said, "It looks like your girlfriend isn't as observant as you." He paused. "And who in the world is Harry Potter?"

"You don't' know?" Harry's shoulders slumped. "The one time I want to be famous, no one recognizes my name." He shrugged an "Oh well," and quickly turned around to whistle through his front teeth.

The unmasked Death Eater winced, then glared. "Stop your noises, boy, or I'll cut off your tongue."

"You used to be so nice," Harry taunted, dropping towards the ground where he'd left his wand next to Ginny's. Dale shot a disarming curse off, and the two wands slipped through Harry's fingers, shooting off towards Dale's outstretched hand. Before Dale could reach them, however, a golden blur shot through the air that much quicker, sharp jaws snatching the wands from the air, and the dragon circled around to bring the wands back to Harry.

Harry chuckled, scratching it's soft spot. "Good boy, now go get him."

"What is that?" Dale watched, letting his wand droop slightly as the dragon leaped back into the air and came back for him. He raised his wand and shot off a spell that sent a wave of wind through the air, disrupting the dragon's path. It eeped, clawing at invisible currents, and gave up, taking to higher air instead.

Dale, thinking the threat taken care of, turned back to curse Harry but the dragon swooped back down, grabbing Dale's wand before flying back up. The boy panicked, looking around for the dragon and only catch sight of it many lengths above ground. "What is that creature?"

"My dragon, of course," Harry answered simply, twirling the two wands in his hands. "With all the times that people ask me that, I'm beginning to think I should hang a sign on it." The wands stopped twirling and Harry pointed them at his one-time friend, deadly serious. "Now, I think I'm going to ask some easy questions, questions that you'll answer."

Above, the dragon screeched, and when Harry looked up he could see it struggling in the air for a moment before it's wings folded and it dove down. His eyes looked around and, somewhat dumbfounded, he noticed a group of wizards standing at the top of the hill, two of which had their wands pointed up at his dragon while the rest were trained on Harry.

He dropped to the floor, barely missing a spell as it cut the air above his head. From the tingling it left behind, he gathered the spell had been an Unforgivable, and therefore the group of wizards were Death Eaters. At least, he hoped they were. It would be really bad to be getting attacked by one's own side with deadly spells.

The dragon screeched again, its wings awkwardly unfolding and folding again, with nothing to stop its fall. Harry cursed, and pointed his wand at the group of wizards, sending a retaliatory spell back to them. The wizards scattered, but not before he hit one with a giggling charm. As luck would have it, that wizard had been the one attacking his dragon, and once his wand was dropped, the dragon was able to spread its wings out again, regaining its elegant flying enough to get out of range.

With that, the Death Eaters let go of whatever restraints had been holding them back, and within a minute, Harry found himself cornered against the creek's tree, ducking behind it as curses flew by. His dragon dropped down to distract his attackers, but then had to struggle away to avoid getting attacked as well.

"Come out, boy!" one yelled.

Harry grinned as he dodged another curse, and yelled back, "I don't think so! Even if my trunks have just dried, I'm willing to swim it out." That brought a pause from the group, as Harry knew it would; curses traveled in a straight line, but water disrupted that just as it did rays of light. If he got under water, there was no real way they could attack him magically, and he knew he was a good enough swimmer to get away. It was a long time since his swimming troubles at the Triwizard Tournament, and Sirius had been sure to instill into him a good love of the water.

"Come out boy," the one repeated again, "or your girlfriend gets it."

Harry almost ran out from behind the tree at that. "Ginny!" he hissed, then cursed as he remembered how she'd fainted there in the grass. How she'd fainted and he'd forgotten. He gingerly climbed up a few branches, not trusting the upper limbs to carry his weight, and looked over to see that two of the Death Eaters were sneakily heading towards him, while two others had surrounded Ginny. Dale was off to the side, sitting in the grass with an angry expression on his face, an expression that Harry had rarely seen. Dale never got angry, never.

His dragon dropped from the sky again, but this time the Death Eaters were waiting for it and it barely squeaked before getting captured. One of the Death Eaters called out, "We've got you're girlfriend and your pet. Either give up or lose them both."

He narrowed his eyes, then sighed. "All right, fine. Just give me a second." The two wizards trying to surround him fell back in surprise when he jumped down from the tree, wand tossed to his feet. "I give up. Just don't hurt them."

The Death Eaters picked up his wand and one cuffed him over the head before spelling ropes to tightly bind him. They dragged him out from behind the tree, not caring that the ropes burned into his skin, and his dragon hissed, struggling to get free despite its own bonds.

One of the Death Eaters, the leader from the looks of it, nodded triumphantly, then motioned for the others to pick up Ginny and the dragon. "Come," he said, "the master will want to meet them."


	9. 8

****

** Dimension Wander **

By Tvillinger

****

Life Two -- Part Three

When Harry awoke, it was a transition from one nightmare to another. His scar burned like the almighty's vengeful wrath.

Which, considering what he'd allowed to happen, was exactly what he deserved.

Years from sleeping in the Slytherin common room taught Harry to try and assess his surroundings before letting the people around him know he was awake. Practice had allowed him to catch pranksters in the act of dousing him with water, and had given him warning when some sharky seventh year was sneaking out. In fact, it had been his friend Dale who had taught him the practice of faking sleep, the same friend who in this mysterious reality was the complete opposite of that seventh year buddy.

Harry opened his eyes to narrow slits, awake of how such a vivid green attracted attention, and tried to gaze through a film of darkness to see where he was. He choked back the urge to slap a cool hand over the fire that was his scar, and forced his breathing to remain deep, calm. One of his hands lay conveniently splayed out on the floor, and he lightly scrapped a finger against the ground to establish that it was wood beneath his body, rickety old wood that splintered at even that light investigation.

At some unseen signal, the whole earth began to shake. Harry bit back a gasp, forcing his body to perfect stillness long enough to realize that the wooden floor was probably some sort of wagon, and that the wagon had started up its drive to whatever destination planned. His muscles relaxed, and Harry, still motionless, listened above the noise of creaking wood, trying to hear anything that would give him insight.

There was the sound of rancid laughter to his immediate left, faded with distance, and to his right was a noisy conversation between three or four men, with a woman's voice injecting itself every few comments. There was the sound of heavy, deep breathing right at his side, as well as soft snarls muffled by layers of cloth.

"Ginny," he whispered, turning over softly to stare at the girl's still body, her eyes closed and her skin a tight white. And beside her, in a tied bag and struggling hard to escape, was his dragon, hissing in exasperation and anger.

Harry glanced around, opening his eyes all the way, and making sure that no guards were immediately nearby before he tried to stumble to his feet.

Chains of rope burned into his wrists and ankles, foiling his movements, and Harry fell back down with a graceless grunt. Harry glared at the cords and began wriggling fingers and toes, testing the ropes' strength and endurance. Each was tied tight, and his resistance only brought further pain as the ropes burned deeper into his skin. His dragon, hearing his struggle, squawked encouragement and its own bag began to shake with its added effort to escape.

Harry grunted again, then let his body slid back to the ground, unmoving in frustration. His eyes glared through the darkness of the wooden wagon, unable to see much beyond the still Ginny and the bagged dragon, and his ears picked up the fact that each outside noise was drifting further away, while the pain in his scar only grew worse. Soon, he knew that the pain would likely block his common sense and leave him gaping like the second year body he'd been trapped in.

The ropes, without his struggling, magically eased up, to Harry surprise. He tested a finger, grinning to find that he could move much more freely for a few moments before the ropes tightened up again. Whatever spell bound him, it held a second's delay, and he would work the advantage.

Turning to his back, Harry waited for the ropes to ease up again, then struggled furiously. Predictably, the ropes tightened up, going to the point where he could hardly breath. Stopping, Harry held his body still and waited again for the magic to abate. His struggling had let his ankles and wrists separate with barely a breath's room between them, but it was a triumph.

Again, Harry struggled, careful to push the ropes only to a certain limit, and each time the space between appendages grew wider and wider, with only Harry's failing muscles there to keep them from collapsing back together. Judging the time to be right, Harry bit his lips, the slipped a wrist through the ropes as quickly as he could.

Escape woke the ropes like a fury. Immediately, the magic blazed, tightening the bands on his wrists with an unbelievable speed, but Harry had already slipped the other wrist through, leaving only air behind as the ropes collapsed, its magic continuing until the cords had tightened into ringed circlets.

Tired, but grinning like a devil, Harry hoisted himself to a sitting position, careful not to let his ankles slid in the least. Then his free hands grabbed those ropes at his feet, straining and holding them in position to allow his ankles and toes to slip through. The ropes seemed to sense the escape as well, and tried to tighten. When his second foot was freed, Harry let go of the cords, barely fast enough from getting his fingers snapped off.

Completely free, Harry sighed a breath of relief, and laid against the darkness for a moment of rest before stirring himself up again. Ginny hadn't been bound; but then again she hadn't battered an eyelash in the whole time since he'd wakened up. Harry suspected some sleeping spell, considering how still the girl was, and without his wand he couldn't' reverse the effects, so he turned to the struggling bag.

As soon as he'd picked it up, the dragon let out a screech, redoubling its efforts as it thought he was an enemy.

"Shh!" Harry looked around, frightened to visions of Death Eaters storming in, but saw nothing. "It's only me." The dragon stilled, then croaked a sad note. Never before had it been so mishandled, not even by Snape, and the disgrace tore at its pride and dignity as a winged beast. Harry smiled sympathetically, and looked over the knots tying the creature in, again encountering magical reinforcements. Their attackers rightly feared this small dragon's strength, and the magic used prevented any tearing of the bag, and any slipping of the knot. Sighing, Harry sat down and started to work.

To free his friend, he would need to concentrate over the pain of his scar, which had increased doubly since he woke up, and which would undoubtedly continue to increase.

Harry tried first to carefully untie the thick knots holding the dragon in, but whenever he paused the knots slipped back together. With a wand, he could easily dispel the charm trapping his dragon, but he was left with only muggle-like resources. Harry bit a lip, considering recourses, but then shook his head in acceptance. Whatever he did, he'd have to work quickly. The pain in his scar was beginning to affect him, sending him into dizzy phases.

He set to work again, trying to untie the knots. Any time the knots began to slip back together, he grunted and pulled them apart by force. His fingers turned raw and red, pinched skin getting trapped between sliding knots that often tore and peeled his blistered palm. The dragon, sensing his pain and unable to do anything, crooned soft notes like a simple lullaby meant for encouragement.

At one point, Harry ran out of fingers to stop the slipping knots. So close to winning free, he nearly snarled in frustration, but then he bit back that despair and instead used his teeth to clamp the knots down. The effect sent his jaw into small cramps. He ignored the pain, keeping teeth closed tight while fingers worked faster to complete their mission. A pinky got caught in a trap, stuck fast between two sliding knots, and Harry held back a painful yelp, pulling the finger clean of knot and leaving pale skin. With the finger out of the way, the knots tried to slid back together, and Harry had no choice but to put the skinned pinky back in the trap to prevent the knots from regaining ground. The finger's nerves burned fire in distracting pain, not even close to the pain that still exploded like firecrackers on his forehead.

Finally, Harry freed out one knot, panting with the effort. The result was a tiny whole that was immediately filled with a snarling golden nose. The dragon tried to squeeze through the opening, and when it couldn't, it fixed sharp jaws on the cloth, trying in vain to tear the cloth with anger. One tooth was caught in a sliding knot, and yelping, the dragon slammed its nose back into the folds of the bag, whimpering with bruised pride.

Harry didn't pause in his work, so close to finish. He ground teeth together to block the pain, swallowing to steady against dizziness. The bag of knots before him was a fit of puzzles, skinning his hands raw. A pounding headache had built up with the pain, now feeling like a constant slap on his head.

Just when he thought he had undone another knot, it bounded up in complexity, and Harry nearly kicked the bag in frustration. Raw knuckles clicked together as he pushed down angered reflexes and Harry spared no more time in figuring out the puzzle. Blood ran freely from his fingers' wounds, soaking the knots and creating a sliding electricity that startled Harry. Knots came freer, sliding beneath his hands like daggers and biting teeth.

Minutes, hours later, the knots of the bag soaked through to reluctant opening, Harry unfolded the last knot with red hands full of blood, blisters, and sores to see his dragon, sleeping with confidence in his skill. The dragon blinked open lazy eyes, jaws cracking open in a wicked smile that Harry couldn't help but answer.

His grin only lasted for a second before the pain in his scar blacked him out. The last thing he saw before utter darkness was his dragon's head snap up to snarl at unseen enemies that laughed at Harry's fouled attempt to escape, even as the dying roar of some creature echoed in his falling ears.

"What a silly boy," one voice opinioned, cold and snake-like, too cold to be anyone else.

The wagon's rolling gait had stopped at its destination. Harry had come into the presence of Voldemort.

*

Lord Voldemort, last living heir of Salazar Slytherin (he'd made certain of that particular fact through a fun bloodbath of cousins, uncles, grandfathers), couldn't help but grin at the news of the Hogwarts students' capture, and his skull grin grew when his Death Eaters told him in humble tones that the students would be there shortly.

The broken wagon, lugged at the back of a muzzled erumpent, came into the chosen clearing late in the evening with the sun bleeding dry over the western horizon, its dying light suiting Voldemort's purposes quite well. The erumpent, its dangerous horn covered, tried to bowl down the masked wizards that circled around the wagon, but the dark wizards wasted no time for even an endangered animal. The rhino-like being went down with a loud roar, crumpling against the black soil like a fallen titan before going completely still--unconscious, not dead; its exploding fluid was too valuable to give the beast the pleasure of an easy death.

Voldemort waited as his trained servants pulled the erumpent out of the clearing, summoning a cage to entrap the beast in, then opening the wagon's doors. Immediately, they were confronted by a hissing, spitting creature that flew out of the way and into the sky. Voldemort dismissed the creature, unsure of its importance and careless as it flickered in the distance like a golden star. What interested him was the two figured lying in the wagon. One was still asleep, traces of a sleeping spell evident on her young face. The other was glaring at him with green eyes, vivid with hate but far from lucid. If anything, the boy was about to faint.

What interested Voldemort was the fact that the boy had escaped charmed bounds. "What a silly boy," he murmured, realizing that this student honestly thought escape possible. The boy's eyes shut, cutting off the strange green color, and black head tumbled forward, smashing headlong out of the wagon and against the ground. Voldemort narrowed his eyes in distaste as his servants belatedly moved to catch the boy's fall. "When he wakes, send him to me."

His servants bowed out of the way, dragging the boy's limp body out of the way and off to the side. Where, Voldemort didn't care. His attention rolled over to the sleeping girl, dispelling her unnatural sleep with a word. It took her a moment, but then hazy eyes opened uncertainly. "Harry?" she murmured, blinking and instinctively calling out for her friend. Voldemort grinned, letting the witch regain herself and reveling in the bleak shock that soon rolled across her young face.

She looked around, blinking again to get the sand from her eyes and to adjust to the dying light. He knew when she woke fully because she shot back into the wagon with a gasp, eyes childishly wide. "Who are you?' the girl demanded, but her shaking voice undid all attempts at courage.

Voldemort nodded a head in a slight mocking bow. "Dear girl, don't say that your journey from the castle leaves you ignorant of the threat that kept you _in_ the castle to begin with!" He motioned towards his servants, all masked and still in respect to him. "If you don't know us by name, surely by reputation?"

The girl paled beyond her natural whiteness, and it looked like she was going to faint again. Voldemort watched her, quickly concluding that even if this girl knew something, she would be of no use to him. However the students had left the castle, it was obvious that only the glaring boy would be able to get back out. This girl probably came against her will.

When she swooned, hitting the wagon's deck with a cluttering bang, Harry pointed at a Death Eater at random. "Make sure she keeps well," he instructed, already planning on using her as a bargaining chip against Dumbledore. The red hair and freckles only belonged to the Weasleys, one of Dumbledore's greater allies. "Don't let any physical harm come to her." The chuckles from beneath the mask showed that his servant understood well, and Voldemort turned away with the grin still on his face. Physically harmed, and Dumbledore might not buy her back, but that old headmaster wouldn't be able to trace the mental torture the girl would undergo during her time in the Dark Lord's stay. Even if Dumbledore knew, he couldn't do much about it; what else could come in Voldemort's presence but fear?

As he was leaving, one of the initiates came up to him, keeping head bowed respectfully. Voldemort named him instantly: Dale Ohno, graduated from Hogwarts only two years back and one of the more successful recruits. Ohno head still bent, he murmured, "My lord, I believe I know who the boy in your capture is."

Voldemort let his eyes lazily slid over Ohno's masked face, invoking in the initiate all sorts of fear. "No news to me, boy. But keep Potter's identity to yourself." For only Lily Potter and her son had green eyes so bright, and in his hand, Potter's son would be a chip too valuable to waste on bargaining. As Dumbledore's greatest allies, the Potters' would suffer the greatest knowing that their son would be physically and mentally tortured for untold months, until the boy broke and reveled the secret into Hogwarts' warded gates. Then, the Potters would be hurled into disbelief when the discovery came to light: that their son's betrayal would be the key defeat of the Light side when Voldemort conquered. The only thing that would cause more pain in his foes would be if their son turned against them, and even that could be arranged.

Ohno shuddered under the mask, nodding quickly to show agreement, probably suspecting the Dark Lord's plans. Voldemort was about to continue out of the clearing when the recruit added, "Yes, my lord, but I wanted you to hear what I heard the boy say."

His darting glances side to side caught Voldemort interest, even sparingly, and the Dark Lord stopped walking to focus full attention on the young recruit. To invoke the Dark Lord's full attention was to invoke either infinite pain or reward. The Death Eater knew this, and his breathing became shaky, his robes clinging to his body with sweat, as he walked the fine line between reward and punishment. "The boy knew me by name, though I've never before met him. I graduated the year before he came into Hogwarts. He talked as if we were friends, but when I rebutted his friendship, he turned...angry, with both himself and me. He knew that I was in your service, though how I know not. The girl didn't know either, fainting as soon as she became aware of... what... I am."

"What does this talk have to interest me?" Voldemort cut in, beginning to anger with the waste of time as his interest was lost.

Ohno shuddered again with realized fear, and pressed on. "My lord, the boy introduced himself to me at that point as Harry Potter, naming himself the 'Boy Who Lived,' the savior of the world." He swallowed and looked up, fear tangible through the mask on his face. "My lord, these titles..."

Voldemort waved the fear away. "Mere titles. What did this boy live through? Who anointed him savior? If he were older, perhaps I might take interest. As it is, this Potter child only interests me through his claims of family to the Potters."

He expected Ohno to leave at that implied dismissal, but instead the Death Eater fell to one knee. "My lord, I overheard the boy tell how Dumbledore himself taught secret training lessons through the use of a time turner. For the title 'Boy Who Lived,' I can't begin to fathom, but Dumbledore may have anointed this Potter as savior, may have trained this Potter in ways to equal any seventh year." Ohno paused then said, "He even has a familiar, the dragon that escaped despite wards. That Potter escaped the spelled ropes without magic is proof that this child is nothing normal."

Voldemort digested the information without expression on his face, thinking again of the news from his spy that two students had apparated from Hogsmeade, two who he once thought were seventh years. Of course, it would fit that the Potters would have a son magically powerful. His rolled the facts over, not even blinking to give Ohno sign of decision. The Death Eater sweated, not knowing what to do.

He came to a decision. "Awake the boy now," he commanded. "Bring him to me now, whatever his condition. Tell him nothing. Give him nothing. Just bring him to me."

*

Albus Dumbledore was in something similar to shock. "How?" was the only thing he could say, back turned from the group gathered, the group that had cornered him with news on his way to his office. Lily, James, Arthur, and Molly all crowded together, faces worried, while off to the side, the Weasley twins whispered together quietly, looking out of place next to the group of worried parents.

"We don't know," James admitted in dry, dead tones of worry. His eyes were slightly phased, as if wondering what past sin was now being paid back in full by putting the life of his only child in danger over and over again. Lily squeezed her husband's hand while her own eyes, filled with uncried tears, shined in the dim torchlight. "All we know is that they're no longer here."

"The map?" Dumbledore grabbed the flimsy parchment from Fred's fist and looked at the groups of students wandering around, none of them bearing the name of Harry or Ginny. He wanted to sigh, but that would show his former and current students that he was as human as them, taking away the only belief they had left.

"All of the secret ways are secure, sir," George reported, voice tight at the possibility of losing his baby sister for a second time in less than a week. "We checked them all again after we found out two students were missing, and all the wards we put down were still in place."

Dumbledore smiled thankfully at them, but in his mind he could hear the conversation with Harry Potter replaying itself. A second year would have no defense against the twins' wards, but a seventh year would certainly know a few spells--'No!' He cut that thought off. 'It's impossible.'

"We'll have to assume that either the students slipped out of Hogwarts of their own will, or were taken," he announced quietly to the forlorn group. Arthur squashed a fist together, and Molly let out a shaky breath; both were feeling the same panic from hearing that their children had been taken down to the Chamber of Secrets. Lily and James glanced at each other, then looked away to the floor, a slight muscle tremor in James' shoulders and Lily looking ready to collapse. "Since intruders entering Hogwarts and snatching children would have been noticed, I believe that the first possibility is the most likely."

He gave them a moment to gather their thoughts. "The only thing we can do now is contact our field agents and let them know that two children are missing from the school. Perhaps one of our spies have seen them, or one of our operatives noticed them."

"Tell Remus first," James suggested the moment Dumbledore stopped talking. "He'll want to know first."

Dumbledore nodded in weary resignation, saddened by the fact that telling his agents was the only comfort he could give to the grieving families, families that meant so much to him. The conversation dwindled, everyone preoccupied by thoughts of how two students managed to sneak out of Hogwarts unnoticed, and Dumbledore left them there.

In his office, he looked at his phoenix, as weary as himself, and smiled. "What are we ever going to do to win this war?" he asked the lovely bird, and it raised a song of passion for his pain. Grateful, he turned to the fireplace, summoning the strength for the simple task of contacting a wizard who'd pass the message on: Two students missing, Harry Potter and Virginia Weasley--requesting Remus Lupin for the task.

*

Harry couldn't describe which pain was worse: that of his hands, torn and raw with bleeding blisters and skinned knuckles, or that of his forehead, a spiraling pain emanating from a jagged scar, his birthright. With his hands, he could see the damage, understand the pain. With his scar, he definitely couldn't see (eyes didn't roll that far up to let one stare at one's forehead) and even if he could, all he'd see was the lightening bolt. No blood, no real physical reason why his head felt like a popping balloon--the pain was all mental junk that he really thought he could do without, at least in this lifetime.

Then he took his eyes off his blooded hands and looked up to see the red-flicked eyes of a maniac, and he realized that the source of such horrific pain really could be seen, sitting right in front of him.

Voldemort grinned. "Hello, Harry."

Harry felt like fainting again, and not just because of the pain. Here, Voldemort looked... well, reasonably human. Not like that shade in the Forbidden Forest, or the half-face on Quirrel, or the baby nightmare before and the skull-like demon after the rebirth during the Triwizard Tournament. This Voldemort even looked better than the brief glance Harry had seen of the monster the night his parents were attacked while he sat trapped in a baby's body. Which idea was just plain creepy, that Voldemort only got better with time and war.

Harry tried to grin back, but all he could manage was a lifting of his lips to show crunched teeth. He didn't dare talk; if he did, he'd probably bite off his own tongue--that or scream aloud because of the pain. Scream, and never stop screaming.

Voldemort laughed, the sound of bones breaking on cold concrete, and Harry could barely hear him over the sound of blood rushing to his head. "Is this boy mad?" the Dark Lord asked an unseen servant. "I've never heard of a biting Potter."

"My lord, the boy seems to be in a great deal of pain," the servant answered, and Harry named the voice Dale Ohno. "His hands were hurt."

Voldemort looked back to Harry, taking time not to examine the student before him, and he noticed the bloody hands Ohno had suggested. "Yes, if I'm going to have a conversation with you, I would like some talk from your side." His wand out, Voldemort muttered a healing spell that wove skin back together and replenished lost blood.

Harry's eyes went wide and he gave out a sort of squeak before fainting from pain.

*

Remus got the assignment scarcely five minutes after waking, and he felt like just going back to sleep. At least there, the nightmares were guaranteed to end at some point; at least there, he could always pinch himself awake.

He whistled, reading the smoke-sent summery, squinting at the words that hazed in and out of sight, and shaking his head in mild reproach at his unseen superiors for sending such a hopeless assignment to him. Tracking down two runaways during war times was almost certainly impossible, especially if those runaways were smart enough to escape from the trap that was Hogwarts. Those students wouldn't let themselves be found after going through all the trouble of getting out unnoticed. Then again, there was always the possibility that the students went through a rotten case of dumb luck getting out of the castle, and had immediately slipped into Voldemort's hands.

Either case, their recovery was extremely unlikely. Better to send apologies to the parents and loved ones now, then let energy waste on shadowy hope before getting crashed down by dark reality.

"Don't know why they're wasting my time on this," the werewolf half-growled, reluctantly standing up and brushing away the air's foggy tendrils from his robes. It didn't matter; he got damp anyway, since air traveled where it would at its own pleasure. He knew his own worth as Dumbledore's field agent, knew he was the best one on the outside. He had to be, to survive the full moon's bitter transformation each month alone, never knowing when he woke up if the blood staining his teeth was his own or some one else--never knowing if he'd come back, or lose himself to Voldemort's lure to all dark creatures.

Remus straightened damp robes and waited for the report to end, ready to douse the dim fire with soil. The report dragged on, stating daft possibilities and senseless guesses as to where the two students could be. At last, the report spared Remus the most important facts: descriptions and names of the lost persons. When he got to that part, his eyes widened.

Two young students, one a first year and the other a second. Names: Harold Potter and Virginia Weasley.

"Oh, James," the werewolf murmured, feeling a stab of guilt and sympathy for his old friend, only able to barely grasp how the family must be dealing with the loss. No wonder they were ordering him to spare the effort of tracking down the wayward children. For the parents involved, almost any risk would be undertaken.

Shouldering up his sparse belongings, Remus doused the flames, careful to scatter ashes and hide all trace of his person, making his campsite looked unused. He looked around, measuring the light that was beginning to just spill from the eastern horizon as the sun managed enough energy to push itself back into the sky again. Then, he started north, towards Hogwarts and towards any hints of Harry and Ginny's whereabouts. The trail would start there, and lead to the missing children. And he would find them at all costs.

Not even death was a hard tax any more. Sirius had proved that.

*

Beneath the rotting hills of the once great city of London, the muggle family huddled, drawing warmth from a dingy fire and shelter from the fallen slates of iron, steel, brick--things left over from buildings that had touched the sky.

Hermione Granger grimaced, hiding her pain with a smile for her younger siblings. "Now then," she continued the lecture, "who can recite the English alphabet for me?"

The orphans around her let their eyes go wide with ignorance, and the young muggle held back an urge to sigh.

"Don't do this," she warned/pleaded. "I know for a fact that every single one of you know the alphabet. It's what we've been working on for the last few days." She searched their faces, hiding desperation at each blank expression that stared back at her. She'd gotten good at hiding things over the last year, almost to good, her mother would complain if the lady were still living.

They didn't feel like talking today. She could see it in their eyes: the quivering fear that held back even the brightest colors like dark stain or bleach. It was because of the attack last night, the resurgence of magical activity in an area that muggles had begun to feel comfortable in, safe. The Dark Lord must have planned it, must have stopped all magic in this destitute area just long enough for the muggles to feel rested before snatching that precious peace away.

It was all she could do to keep those little brothers and sisters from bolting out into the street where they'd be perfect targets for waiting wizards. They didn't understand the dangers, not even after seeing mothers and fathers taken down by green lights and torturous screams. They didn't understand the idea that magic was something unseen until too late.

Or maybe, Hermione mentally corrected herself as she stared into those hopeless eyes, maybe they understood just too well.

There was a disease of the mind that overtook a person, when that person had seen too much. Looking into the pits of the abyss destroyed sanity until death was the only escape. For that disease to touch such young minds was a tragedy beyond words for Hermione to describe.

She bit a lip, staring at the forlorn faces, and reluctantly gave up on her day's teaching. She was only twelve this year, but the knowledge she held would hardly make a difference. Staring at those young faces, already given up to despair, she began to wonder what the use was of trying. They were all going to die anyway-

"Stop that," she chided herself, closing her eyes against a wave of dizziness. The orphans whined quietly, as quiet as they did everything, and she opened her eyes again with a tight smile. "Oh no, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to myself," she crooned to them, failing to keep the weariness out of her voice. "You didn't do anything wrong."

It didn't work; one of the children began to back up in fear, seeing in her face a nameless enemy. They must have heard the rumors, she decided, the rumors that said she was a witch in disguise, a witch that had come here to spy on the muggles and to give off information to the Dark Lord who ruled the north and who fed off the south.

The child back away, and Hermione gave a start when she realized that the little boy was inching his way towards the window with all the broken glass. "Be careful," she bit out, stomach knotting up. "You'll cut yourself!"

He didn't care. Backing away, a bare foot stepped on a glass shard, completely absorbing it. He didn't care. Backing away, a hand grasped towards the window sill, sinking into jagged pieces of pain. He didn't care. Backing away, he left behind bloody prints before jumping out the window and jogging away.

His destiny was sealed and he didn't care.

"Get away from the windows!" Hermione screeched, waving her hands around as a sixth sense gave her a second's warning. The children flocked back to the inner corners of the room, more frightened by her squalling than her warning. She flung herself over the bodies of the youngest ones not a moment too soon.

Outside, there was a whispered breath of air, then an explosion. A child's hoarse scream could barely be heard over the dark chuckling over wizards as they descended from brooms to pick up their fallen prey.

Hermione bit her lip, glad again for the thick robes she'd managed to save. The material was the only thing separating her vulnerable back and the shards of glass that came flying inside the room.

She didn't waste anytime getting back to her feet. The children were already scattering, screaming like a flock of wild geese. Outside, she heard a pause in the wizards' conversation, then one of them remarked, "Looks like we found a hidden stash." Footsteps echoed towards her hideout.

"Come, follow me," she hissed at the children, putting a finger over her lips for quiet time. The youngest ones listened to her, trusting her blindly; the older ones, some of their faces cut by small pieces of glass, hesitated between the unknown outside and the untrustable inside. Some bolted out the window, not learning from their late companion's mistake, but some--those who had been with her the longest--followed as she led them through the dark passages and mazes that she knew like her heartbeat from a year's desperate flight along the city's ruins.

Those who had left would be bait for the wizards, but they'd also give her enough time to get the rest out of there. Running, Hermione didn't have any chance to cry; all her tears had already dried up, and if she wasted any time only more blood would be spilt.

*

His hands were wrapped in rags so tight that not a single finger could move. The rags melded his hands together like blocky ends. If he had a wand, it wold be useless. Maybe they'd give him a wand just to laugh as he struggles to use it.

But the pain in his scar was gone.

Harry glances around in wary suspicion, not too naïve to believe that after all the trouble they went through of catching him, the Death Eaters would simply let him go. If they did, he'd have to follow. He couldn't leave Ginny alone to them. Hopefully, his dragon would be far enough away to get help--if the silly little thing didn't get itself recaptured trying to fight through an army of Death Eaters. That was its greatest flaw: being too much like the Gryffindor that made it.

Stumbling to his feet, Harry walked to the nearest thing--a tree--and stabbed the bindings of his hands against it, trying to snag a piece of cloth on the tree, trying to free his hands. Nothing happened. It was as if the bandages on his hands were magicked to be as smooth as silk, which possibility was very likely considering his enemies. They'd take a certain twisted pleasure in tying his hands together then setting him loose to fend for himself.

Swearing, Harry looked around, then froze at the soft sound of a twig breaking. It hadn't been him. The area around his feet was clean of any twigs or branches or fallen leaves; suspiciously clean, like someone had come through with a broom and unknown reason. Spurred on by paranoia, Harry waited, holding his breath for some other sign of his stalker's presence.

Another twig broke, this time undoubtedly close. Harry turned just in time to see the sirling of a black cloak, and his stomach lurched. Were his captors playing some game of cat-and-mouse? He stilled, trying to listen again for the tell-tell sound of unnatural breeze or footsteps.

There was more than one person nearby. When a twig broke behind him, a cloak caught on some dead leaves ahead of him. The sounds were concurrently timed, planned to give him the impression of only one person, _or to test his nerves to the limits, feeling him with fear and panic!_

He slowed down his breathing, forcing lungs to accept deep breaths instead of frenzied ones. His hearing caught hold of another person's sound, like an echo of the first two. Either he was being surrounded, or he was going insane.

Finally, a person dared step into the clearing. Harry forced himself to grin, forced himself to hide all waves of hysteria beneath a flawless wall of calm. "Decide to stop playing around, have you?" he taunted, wishing that his forehead didn't tickle with sweat. "Finally got the nerve to face me outright?"

The laugh was cold, the sound of bones breaking on pavement, and the person flung back his hood to show a human face with red-speckled eyes. Harry nearly bit his tongue in surprise, a part of his mind vaguely wondering why his scar wasn't bursting with the need to painfully inform him of Voldemort's presence.

The Dark Lord nodded to the woods. "Leave us," he ordered to the circling Death Eaters, and the intimidators tromped away. Then he turned his skull grin on Harry. "Don't try to act brave," Voldemort advised, pointing to his forehead. "I can feel you right here."

"What?" Harry fell back a step, unwillingly shocked. He swallowed, and muttered, "I-I don't know what you're talking about-"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, Mister Potter," Voldemort cut in sharply, still grinning like a wicked devil. "It was a great surprise to me, when that healing spell on your hands went wrong and practically flung your mind at me, but I'm all the much better off." The grin went wider. "Who would have ever thought a _second_ year could know so much."

The emphasis on that word made Harry shudder, and he wished that his hands weren't bound. Even wandless, he'd go after Voldemort right now, bedamn the consequences. Right now, all he wanted was to choke the man's throat.

Pacing around the clearing like a stalking leopard, Voldemort smirked. "Dreaming about killing me? That's not very Gryffindor-like of you," he chided before pausing, a pause full of maliciousness. "Then again... I do seem able to recall a certain... a certain memory." His grin could have cut and skinned Harry to the bone. "A memory of yours, if I'm not mistaken, where the Sorting Hat had a bit of trouble, and decided to simply stick you in the four houses."

Harry froze, eyes gone wide, and he forgot to breathe.

Voldemort laughed, stopping his pacing to lean confidently against a tree. "Who would have thought dimension travel possible?" the dark wizard mused, looking decidedly too human for being the monster he was. "What unseen benefits does this have, benefits that I can use?"

"There aren't any," Harry countered viciously, heedlessly, hopelessly. "All you get is a mixed up mind and dizzying memories. Soon, you don't know where you've come from, where you're going, and where it's safe to tell the truth." He swallowed, then continued his brash denouncement. "You'll talk to people you think are friends, and they won't know you. You joke about things you think are all right, and they'll throw you in jail. You'll never know for sure what you've said or done in _this_ dimension, compared to _that_ dimension."

Face pale and lips pressed together tight enough to hurt, Harry ended with, "It's better to stick with just one dimension, one life."

His response: Voldemort waited a moment, then laughed aloud, eyes narrowing in amusement. "Potter, Potter: whatever you say, I know the truth." He tapped his forehead in reminder. "I can hear through your words to your very thoughts, and you know what they're telling me? They say that it's an adventure, a thrill, a chance to start all over and do everything better. That this dimension hopping," he added a mocking sneer at Harry's own term, "is a reason for living, an opportunity for knowledge and power."

He stood, stretching like a feline with all muscles going taunt. It was a mocking gesture, designed to show that he felt absolutely no threat in Harry's presence, grinding into bone the obvious fact of Harry's helplessness. Harry bit his tongue, wishing for the mind-numbing pain of his scar instead of this perverted curse that set his every thought and memory before Voldemort's examination.

Voldemort motioned for Harry to follow. "Come, _boy_," he mocked. "I have plans for you. After all, with you and your dimension hopping potion at my side, we can conquer worlds and universes, planets and dimensions. And you will be by my side, whether you want to or not."

Harry was dragged to his feet by a spell of some sort, forced to stumble along behind Voldemort's graceful trot, and every curse he muttered was met by a laugh. He nearly tripped, caught only by last-minute support from a tree branch, and his face burned with shame.

The curse that had connected him with Voldemort before was now his own bane.

*

"London," Remus breathed, stretching out wide. He stopped at the fallen city on his way north, a sad smile on his face. "Oh London: how far you have toppled, and how great was your fall."

He stared at the great mass of broken glass and shattered steel hardly a moment, and would have continued if he hadn't noticed a flash of green light. Green light was never good, especially not in a muggle ruin. Distantly, he could hear screams, and his face hardened. It would be just like any Death Eater to take joy out of hunting down muggles. He glanced up at the sky, measuring it, and determining it to be only late morning. Enough time to throw down some bad guys while still getting to Hogwarts by afternoon.

Dropping his few possessions, Remus pulled out his wand and stalked forward. London was still great, despite being turned into a ruin at the beginning of the war. It was a magnet for muggles, which was why Dumbledore routinely sent down supplies and help, which was why Death Eaters routinely hunted through these grounds. Muggles detested both.

He slipped through the city, not entirely unfamiliar with the habitation. Buildings had toppled over, and streets were now overgrown with weeds, but still he could faintly recall street-sense from teenage days spent visiting Sirius, who lived in the heart of the city.

Coming up on one street, he was nearly run over by a throng of waist-high children, all covered in soot and dirt, some bleeding from tiny, piercing wounds. Among them, a taller, older girl was bellowing instructions: "Hurry, turn left here! It's the one with the basement. You remember, right?" They all stopped when they saw him, and he knew exactly how he looked to their young eyes: long robes, a wand in one hand, cold face like stone--the image of the enemy that was attacking from behind.

Immediately, the children gave a scream and started to scatter. Out of instinct, Remus constructed a circled barrier that kept them all in. To his surprise, however, the magic was blocked. The children all ran, but down to the building with the basement. All but the older girl, whose flinty gaze and hard stance told him that she wasn't what she seemed.

He held out a hand, trying to soften his face from years of exposure to war. "Please, don't panic! I'm not here to hurt you--I'm here to help."

The girl's face paled beneath the dirt, and she blinked. "Mr. Lupin?" she asked.

It took a moment, but he recognized her, a young witch from Hogwarts whose parents refused to come to the safety of the castle, and who insisted that she come with them during the summer months. He had sneaked her out because she would have found a way out anyway, then smuggled her to meet with her parents. Then came the news that Voldemort was planning on attacking the family, and they'd gone into hiding so deep that when the summer ended she couldn't be found, couldn't be returned to Hogwarts.

"Hermione Granger?" he whispered, stunned to find such a prodigy here in the middle of an attack, guiding a ragtag group of children like some mother hen. Lifting a hand, he wiped some of the dirt from her face, but it persistently stuck, especially to her nose.

She shook her head. "Don't bother, I've been dirty since I left Hogwarts. It won't come off without a thorough soaking."

An explosion set off behind them, and Lupin's face tightened. "Perhaps we should talk in a safer place."

"Follow me," she instructed confidently, leading him off the way her children had gone before. "They won't suffer themselves to go inside a muggle building, but they still shoot curses after us. Only the basement levels are safe anymore, and even there, the buildings are always creaking and groaning, threatening to cave in on us."

They ducked into the building, bending the avoid sharp metal rods and nail-infested wood. She went first, and he waited for her to calm the children down. Still, even after the wait, he entered the basement to find only the young witch.

"They don't trust wizards," she explained n helpless anguish, looking down a dark hall where scattered footfalls echoed. "It'll take me a week to regather them."

"I'm sorry," Remus murmured after a moment of not knowing what to say.

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. They would have scattered after this attack, anyway." Her intelligent eyes shined even under the dirt. "But as surprised as I am to see you here, I'm not all that shocked at the attack itself. See, I've calculated these attacks, and the Death Eaters seem to come back every two to three months. If I hadn't lost count of the days, I would have already put them in a safe place."

Remus winced as a charm sent the building above him shaking down dust and dirt. He looked around, asking, "Is it always like this?"

"No. Those months between the attacks are like heaven." She wasn't being sarcastic.

"Miss Granger..." Remus paused, trying to find the words he wanted to say. He needed to get a move on, but he couldn't just leave a young with to herself. "I can't stay long, but I would like to know if you might want to come with me-"

"Absolutely not," she declared. "Who would take after the children?"

"They're not your children," he pointed out.

"They're not anyone's. Their parents have all died, most of the time before their very eyes. The adults here are too thick-skinned to care for anything but themselves. If I don't take care of them, who will?"

"But you're a witch," Remus blurted out. "How can you stay here, knowing that you can help in the war. I've heard about your accomplishments during you year at Hogwarts, and before you left they were saying you were the most gifted talent the school had seen in decades. Don't you understand? With the help of wizards and witches like you, taking an active participation in the war, this could all be over in a matter of years, months even."

He was aware that he spoke to a twelve-year old, but the look in her eyes was much older, and with some training she would be as ready as anyone to take part in the raging war. It was the sore point to him, the way Hogwarts huddled up its talent when those students could be helping, could be saving lives. It was a sore point, how Dumbledore left only the bare minimum to die out on the field, while those children spent years locked in a castle without any preparation for the cold future they'd be facing. 

By the look in her eyes, Hermione Granger was one of those few young enough but strong enough to fight. But by the look in her eyes, she wasn't prepared to sacrifice the few lives here in exchange for the many lives she could save.

Years of fighting had taught Remus all the stuff he needed to know about sacrifice, and it killed him to see those unwilling to sacrifice as much as he'd seen done. 

Sirius had taught Remus how to sacrifice, and Remus knew he could never live up to the pure selflessness that friend had taught.

She was about to say something, but he raised a hand, suddenly bone weary. "Fine," he bit out in angry tones, unable to hide his bitterness about being called to serve while others were spared, of seeing friends die while others lived on ungratefully. "I see you don't want to come. Spend your life here then, having a taste of _heaven_," the term made him scoff, "while others fight this war for you. I'll deal with the problem outside, then let you alone to scavenge through the leftovers for survivors."

Hermione grabbed his sleeve while he stood up, her eyes questioning. "Just for curiosity's sake," she started, not sounding the least bit touched by his ultimatum, "what exactly are you off doing?"

"What else?" he retorted in scathing tones. "Saving the young and innocent from the fire, and hoping my fingers don't get too burned in the process." Thinking of James' son in that respect made him want to hack up, but he swallowed instead. "Two students escaped from Hogwarts."

"Why?" She looked profoundly stunned at the prospect of someone willingly leaving the sanctuary the school provided.

He couldn't help saying, "They couldn't sit in safety knowing others were dying in their stead." As he turned to go, he added, "It's Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, if you're wondering. By their parents' example, it's no surprise how eager they are to fight in the war, though they're only your age."

"Harry... ?" The witch closed her eyes with something akin to bliss on her face, then she opened her eyes in a new fierce light. "I've changed my mind, and decided to come with you. I owe Harry a Wizard's Debt for saving my life last summer, and I'll be too happy to pay it off now."

Remus only grunted, not willing to chance with fortune by asking her exactly what she meant by that, and the two packed up, Hermione grabbing the few things she held belonging to. When they left London, the Death Eaters taken care of and the children sent away with instruction, the two started off north, departure heralded by the croaking screech of a golden dragon that sailed tiredly from the sky.

*

Ginny woke up to the smell of sweet meat and daises. Her mind was drifting like a cloud of fog, not letting her really see anything that made sense. She saw, through that foggy vision, the carcass of a deer being slowly turned over an open fire. The deer's eyes were glazed over, and its burning lips seemed to cry: Help me, help me.

That snapped her awake.

She sat upright like a flash, tumbling into the thick materials of black robes. Her hands went out to her side, trying to find a way out, and instead they encountered a white, gaping mask. Death Eater robes, Death Eater masks. She tried not to scream.

Struggling to breathe, the girl kicked away the filthy things, face pale as ice. The air nipped at her skin, sending chills down her spines as thoroughly as the masks. Ginny freed herself from the puzzle, then looked back to the fire to see the deer still there. Now, the fire had consumed its face as well, burning holes through wet sockets. She tried not to faint.

Huddles of dark forms were around the campsite, some nearby the deer's roasting body, others walking around like inspectors, and others still stretched out on the ground in some semblance of sleep. She had been stuck in a wagon with the black robes flipped over her body like an afterthought, and now she crept out of the wooden cage. No one noticed her slight body mixing in with the shadows of the new morning because the fog in her mind had descended over the country, making the world into a dream-like state.

The wagon creaked, drawing uninterested attention, and the wizards (Death Eaters, she knew they had to be) soon looked away, apparently not concerned about her escaping. They thought her too young, certainly; soon they would discover how wrong they were.

She looked around for some flash of gold, or a head of wild black hair, but the fog worked against her as much as it did for. If Harry and that weird creature of his were anywhere nearby, thick humid air covered them. Likely, they'd taken Harry away so to separate him and her. She'd heard stories of Death Eater sacrifices, killing little children in cold blood to some demon for their power, and now the rumors seemed too true as she remembered the sight of the deer, flames licking hungrily at glazed eyes.

Ducking through the campsite between other broke-down wagons, she came across a huge metal cage, but it was empty so didn't concern her. She kept up her journey, not really knowing what to do other than a vague idea of getting away to the countryside. If she ever got there...

'I'll deal with it then,' she thought, trying to keep even that thought brave. All the courage that she was supposed to feel as a Gryffindor had long since bled away, gutted out by the memory of a man's bold and terrifying introduction. She prayed silently, huddled behind a stack of boxes that smelled like rotting fish, that the memory of that meeting was only a dream-stirred nightmare.

Ginny heard some oncoming noise, and she ducked behind the carts of fish, plugging her nose but leaving her eyes and ears clear. It was the sound of struggling, crashing footsteps that held her in her place. Only a prisoner would make so much noise, would struggle so much. As the people walked by, one black-cloaked man and one black-haired child, Ginny nearly bit her lip in happiness.

Harry!

Harry didn't look so good. He looked positively ill, in fact, like he was ready to pass out. The man leading him had a hood up, covering any features, and he laughed, jeering about Harry's illness. It only made Harry look worse, paler, terrified.

Ginny understood why. That voice, that man, was from her dim memory/nightmare. Even hiding behind a box of rotting fish, she wanted to cry out then make a dash for it, anything to escape the Dark Lord's presence.

The Dark Lord led Harry back down to the camp, then practically tossed the boy to his pack of servants. "Tie him up," came the icy command, "and make sure he doesn't get loose this time." It came with an unspoken threat that made the Death Eaters jump to. Then the Dark Lord paused, as if thinking something through. "And teach him about the System of Wizardry. I think he'd be surprised to learn about that."

Ginny cringed behind her box as the Dark Lord stormed past her, going out into the woods again. Her frightened eyes tracked him, unwittingly, unable to let go because of the fear that he might turn back and spot her. He didn't; all he did was stride to a certain, unmarked spot, then he vanished altogether. Apparated, like Harry had.

Harry.

Shaking, Ginny looked back over to Harry, shocked to see that her friend had already stood back up and was brave enough to be glaring down at all the men nearby him. He was a Gryffindor to the bone. She looked longingly towards the woods, then backtracked, knowing that even if she did escape, she'd only be captured. She needed Harry to get away completely.

One of the Death Eaters let out a vulgar sentence, cursing Harry and casting doubt on the legitimacy of his birth, crude enough to draw chuckles from the others. They poked at him, drawing long branches from the forest ground, and he endured it silently, the only movement to glare even darker at those who tried to invoke his reactions.

"Let him be," someone interrupted, looking disgusted. It was the teenager that had captured them in the first place, the one that Harry first claimed to know, then denied. Ginny, creeping towards them, stopped but couldn't remember the person's name.

Harry glared at the newcomer, adding a silent snarl with a viciousness that took Ginny's breath away, but the newcomer merely shoved Harry towards the campfire. The deer, done sizzling, was taken down and the camp's cook now squatted over it, cutting up chucks of meat from blacked bones.

Without a word, the Death Eater turned, wand out, and spun onto Harry's wrists down to his ankles ropes that first slithered like snakes before settling down to a choking position. "I would use the body-bind curse," the newcomer explained, "but then you wouldn't be able to talk." He waited a moment, then added, "But it seems like you're not going to talk anyway."

Harry kept up his glare. Ginny wondered if it hurt his eyes.

"...of Wizardry is just a way of measuring a person's magical level," the Death Eater was saying, sitting down before the fire and tracing circles in the dirt with pale fingers. "There are three levels, going from just a normal wizard, then to an enchanter, and finally up to a sorcerer. Most of us are wizards, as you can probably guess, but Dumbledore is a sorcerer, and so is the Dark Lord."

The Death Eater watched to see if his slight explanation would get any result, then shrugged, looking too human for Ginny's tastes as he scooted Harry towards the fire. The fog was chilling, and Ginny wished she could be next to that fire, warmed both by the flame and Harry's presence, but she needed to stay free, to find a way to escape with Harry.

And she would. Slowly, Ginny crept forward, hand closing around a particularly large branch, and she raised it over her head, aiming...

"I don't know why the Dark Lord would want a student to know something like that, but it isn't my place to question. His knowledge and plans go far beyond my simple-"

The Death Eater's eyes rolled skyward and he collapsed as if dead. Ginny dropped the club, the wood burning her fingers, and she hurriedly rushed to Harry's side. "Harry!"

"Don't talk," he started in a low murmur, looking around. "Just find me a knife or something--better yet, find Dale's wand! It'll probably be in his pocket."

"Dale?" Hovering, Ginny turned uncertainly towards the limp body, but at Harry's hissed encouragement, she dipped down. "Sorry," she whispered to the body beneath her hands. "I need this for a second." Her fingers scouted out the stiff twig of wood in a pocket, and triumphantly, she pulled the wand out.

"Good," Harry congratulated. She canceled out the spell, watching as Harry shifted through the magicless rope, then wrenched himself free. His hands looked scarred, but before she could ask about it, he grabbed her hand, whispering, "Let's get out of here."

"There's a barrier," she informed him quietly, looking around. "I saw... him... he, he had to go to the ends of the camp before he could leave."

Harry winced, a hand touching his forehead, and she barely hear him mutter, "I hope he can't hear me," but couldn't make sense of it as he grabbed her arm, running headlong out of the camp.

"Harry! They'll see us!"

"They already do," he told her. "But we've got to get out of here before they realize I can apparate."

"They already see us? And they're not doing anything?"

He shook his head. "No. It's a game to them." He nodded towards the empty campsites. "They've probably got bets on seeing how far we go before we collapse. There's no one besides them for hundred of miles." They reached the end of the campsite and he stopped, grabbing her hand again. "But let's get out of here before they get tired of watching, and try to catch us."

As if stroked on my his words, a group of masked faces began to descend from the area, and Ginny through herself at Harry, shivering as the Death Eaters came closer. "Let's go!"

They were gone.


	10. 9

** Dimension Wander **

By Tvillinger

Life Two -- Part Four

"What is that?" Hermione asked, seeing the creature first. At first, Remus didn't understand what she was talking about until she pointed out the metallic object glittering with the last rays of the fallen sun. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like it."

The werewolf watched for a moment then shrugged. "I have no clue," he admitted honestly, "but it looks too small to be of any real harm."

"Plenty of small things cause big trouble," Hermione muttered darkly. Remus merely shrugged again and continued collecting firewood, small dry twigs scattered around the ground. Hermione eyed the creature a moment longer before turning to help him, every so often turning to see what the flying beast was doing.

The animal was still a ways off and by the time she could discern any real features aside from a small body with wings, the sun had fallen and the stars were out. Remus was gone, leaving her alone in the cave he'd set camp with the reason of needing to contact his superiors. They'd been heading north since leaving London, going straight to Hogwarts. Hermione herself had no real idea how to deal with the information; she'd left the magical school to try and save her parents (who'd died despite her best efforts) and since then had devoted her time to saving as many innocents as she could. Returning to Hogwarts would be safety for her, but it would also go against everything she'd spent the last year of her life doing.

'Mum, I wish you were here.' Absently, she began trailing her fingers in the dirt, making little spirals. The small fire Remus had made before leaving provided a minimum of heat, which was fine because the summer was hot enough as it was, and the fire was the first thing that alerted her to the beast's presence.

The flames flickered. At first, Hermione supposed the flicker to have been a breath of wind, but the open-ended cave didn't allow for any wind to enter. On guard, Hermione fisted a pile of pebbles and spun, ready to attack whoever had entered.

"Ha!"

Her pebbles rammed through the air like small bullets but bounced harmlessly off the other side of the cave. Before she could start feeling silly, she heard the slightest of croaks coming from back behind her.

It was a small dragon. Seeing it, her breath caught. The little demon was incredibly small, a body of scales and talons the color of gold no wider than a few handspans across the chest. It was very long, though, it's body the length of her arm and its tail twice that. 

The little demon had sneaked in behind her and was currently curled up _inside_ the fire! Holding back a shriek, Hermione pushed herself up against the wall, hands quickly searching for more rocks in case the small dragon decided to attack.

Until it looked up at her. The thing let out the barest of squeaks, sounding all but ready to die.

"Hermione," Remus chose that moment to come back, and he froze when he noticed the beastling in the fire. Scrambling inside the cave, the werewolf reached Hermione's side. "What is that?" he asked, then shook his head and before she could even answer, changed his question to, "That's what's been following us?"

"I think so," Hermione answered hesitantly. She reached a hand forward until her fingertips were about three inches from the dragon's snout, as close as she could get while it was still fire-bathing. "I don't think it's here to attack us."

"No." Hermione turned to look at Remus when she heard the note of wonder in his voice. "No, it's not here to attack us at all. Look. Up close, you can see some burns on its snout." His fingers caressed the air above the dragon's nose, and the creature snorted before rising up and pressing into Remus's hand, making an almost purr. "It's probably just gotten out of a difficult situation, if my guess is correct."

"You know what it is?"

Remus shook his head. "No one does. I've just received more information on Harry's disappearance," he indicated a small piece of paper in his hands, "and it seems that before he disappeared, he and the younger two Weasleys stumbled into the Chamber of Secrets." When he paused, Hermione nodded to show that she knew what he was talking about. When she'd left Hogwarts, she'd brought along with her a small collection of books to read, idealistically believing that going into hiding in London would leave her plenty of free time to read and stay caught up with her classmates.

"So it does exist? Wait, how did they get into the Chamber in the first place?"

Remus shrugged. "I've no idea. I haven't been to the castle since dropping by to pick you up last year. Anyway, they were in the Chamber and when the three got out, Harry unexplainably showed up with a small dragon." The dragon, tired of getting its scales scratched, lowered its head back into the blaze. Its body was completely curled up and Hermione inspected it again with a new intensity.

"You think this is it?"

"I've been advised that Harry's dragon doesn't like to leave his side, and to look for it if I want to find the boy. Since no one's ever heard of a dragon this size, I have to say that this is Harry's."

Excitement filled Hermione, and she stood so fast her head scrapped against the cave's wall. "Is Harry nearby, then?" she asked, looking towards the cave's open wall.

Remus was studying the dragon, his chin cupped in one hand, and he shook his head. "I'm not sure," he answered after a while. The dragon was purring again, deep rumbling noises that were still almost pleasant. It raised its head, eyes open and staring at Hermione without blinking. "I'm not sure, but my guess is that it'll lead us to him."

*

As Potter and his muggle-lover disapparated, Voldemort grinned from the shadows. The little fool. Had he forgotten so quickly that now, his every thought could be held under scrutiny?

Nodding to his most loyal followers, Voldemort made the motion to start. "Trail them in," he ordered quietly, "but make sure they don't see you." The Death Eaters nodded, disapparating to Hogsmeade where they'd be able to track Potter soundlessly.

"This should get interesting," Voldemort murmured to himself, his grin still plastered on his face.

Harry apparated breathlessly, still clinging onto Ginny whose body was shaking so hard Harry thought she was having a seizure. "Ginny! Ginny, it's all right. We're safe." 

The first-year gradually stilled, breathing hoarsely into Harry's collar, her tiny fists ironing wrinkles in his robes. Within a few more minutes time, she slowly lifted her eyes around, the brown irises wide with traces of panic. "W-where are we?" she asked quietly, hushed.

"Hogsmeade," Harry reminded gently, bringing a hand up to softly stroke her hair. She looked so young! "Don't worry, no one else is here." He looked around quickly, sickened again at the sight of the destruction of his favorite village in the world. "This place... it looks to have been deserted a long time ago."

"Oh Harry!" She collapsed again against him. "We were there, weren't we?" Uneasily, Harry nodded, and the girl immediately began shaking again. "We... we could have..."

"Hush," Harry gently shushed her, cupping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. "Stop that. Nothing happened. We're safe, all right? We're safe." It took a good fifteen minutes to calm her again, and then more time to convince her that standing absolutely still was not the best thing to be doing when being chased by Death Eaters.

Looking around, Harry thought about simply sneaking back into Hogwarts, but immediately banished the idea. If what Voldemort said was true, then waltzing into Hogwarts through secret passages was the same as pointing the way in to the Dark Lord. But even if he couldn't go back to Hogwarts yet, he sure as anything wasn't staying here, in the ruined remains of Hogsmeade. The village had been the first place he'd thought to apparate to. Somewhat cynically, Harry wondered about how bad Diagon Alley had to be if the only wizarding village in the world had become so destroyed.

The thought was like a lightbulb going off in his head. Gently taking Ginny's shoulder, Harry lifted her head again.

Ginny unsteadily raised her eyes, and Harry grinned at her, trying to lighten the mood. "Hey, don't be like that," he chided. "Just think about what we've done! We've gotten captured by Voldemort, sure, but so have a lot of other people." Her expression was turning back into its frozen mask of fear, telling Harry that a cheerful attitude wasn't exactly what she needed. "What I'm trying to say is that even though we got caught, we got away scot-free! Who else can say that? When we get back to Hogwarts, we'll be absolutely famous."

Just saying that made his hands tingle with the memory of rope burns and blood, and even as he was talking Harry realized that getting back to Hogwarts relatively unhurt after capture wouldn't be cause for celebration--Dumbledore would probably have them put under trial for conspiracy with the Dark Lord. Add to all that the current inverse-scar side effect leaving Voldemort audience to his every thought, and there really was little to be happy with after escaping Voldemort aside from the simple fact that they had escaped.

His dragon was probably flying free right about now, Harry reflected with a little envy. Lucky little bugger got off scot-free _every_ time! He hoped it got something to eat during the night, but didn't really worry. It had proven time after time that it could take of itself.

Ginny bought it, though, and her face slowly lit up with childish wonder. "Really?" she breathed. Harry nodded firmly, and the girl gave a final shudder before a shy smile invaded her face. She had dimples, Harry noted absently. "Well, then let's get going. If we can get back fast enough, can't we tell Dumbledore where the Death Eaters are camped?"

"Uh..." Harry looked around the place, and his stomach provided the answer, grumbling unhappily. He grinned. "I'd go, but right now I'm about as hungry as I've ever been, and escaping like that's made me tired as anything. I wouldn't be able to get through the passage even if I tried." Her face fell, and Harry hurried to add, "But, how about we go back as soon as we take a real quick break. After all, this is the first time you've been out of the castle, isn't it? Let's take our time. The Death Eaters probably don't even know we're gone yet."

Ginny thought about this a moment then looked up longingly towards the setting sun, obviously giving in to the idea.

Before she even nodded, Harry grinned. "Good, because everything is much better at night. We can't go back until you've seen the stars!" He thought he saw a golden gleam, but when he looked it was only the dying sun reflecting off a piece of metal. That dragon had better be safe or he'd...

Thinking quickly, Harry went through a list of places he knew well enough to apparate to, wondering whether anything would still be standing. He finally settled on one place he really did not want to return to, but the only place he knew would still be in one piece. Hopefully, Voldemort's destruction was limited only to the wizarding world.

Holding out a hand, Harry locked eyes with Ginny. "Come on," he said, "I know just the place." And his dragon knew it, too. They'd hopefully meet up with it there.

Privet Drive looked exactly as it always did.

*

When Petunia Dursley heard the knocking on the door, she thought for a moment that it was just an extension of her nightmares, but after lying in bed for a minute the woman groaned into her pillow. _She_ certainly didn't want to get up and go open the door. "What time is it?" she muttered, flailing in the bed's giant comforter until she managed to roll to a sitting position, sleepily scrubbing her eyes before glancing at the bedside clock and groaning again.

The knocking continued despite the time, and Petunia irritably stood up, legs shaking before steadying, and she slipped on a robe before leaving the bedroom.

"Just a minute," Petunia shouted as the knocking got louder. She stopped for a moment to check on Dudley, still asleep, then headed downstairs. She hesitated at the door, pausing to sneak a glance to the window and desperately wishing Vernon was there. She could hardly see anything, only dark muddled shapes. Who could it be? Was it a burglar? The possibility sent a chill down Petunia's spine and she backed up, stumbling to a nearby closet to withdraw a bat.

"Who is it?" she called out, stepping close to the door again. She could hear voices, two of them at least.

"Aunt Petunia?"

Petunia's forehead wrinkled. "What?"

"Aunt Petunia, will you please let me in?" It was a boy, high-pitched voice beside the matter. 

Confused, Petunia leaned to the window again, pulling the drapes away. The night's cloudy sky was blocking out most of the moon, but enough clouds had moved so that, squinting, Petunia could just barely make out a face in the shadows. The messy black hair and green eyes couldn't be mistaken.

The face moved closer to the window, enough to let Petunia see a jagged scar running down his forehead. "Aunt Petunia, it's me. It's Harry." The boy's young face crinkled in puzzlement. "You know me, right?"

"Oh no," Petunia shouted through the window, blown away in a rush of panic. "Get away from here! Leave me alone." She snapped the drapes back, jumping back from the window and staring at the door, shaking. Would he force it open, like those others had? When nothing happened, Petunia collapsed against a wall in relief. She couldn't hear any voices. The boy must have left.

She buried her face in her hands, stilling her shaking shoulders. Why wouldn't they leave her alone? First, Lily, then those black-robed men, and how many others--all pounding on her door, trying to break apart her perfect family, trying to kill her. "I don't know where they are," she murmured under her breath, seeing in her mind the red-eyed gaze of a man whose face she couldn't recall. "I don't know... they don't tell me anything... they're all freaks!" The man... she couldn't remember what he'd done but nearly a year of her memory was just gone. Dudley was worse.

Thinking of her child, Petunia forced herself to stand and start up the stairs, the bat supporting her like a wobbly cane. She sneaked into Dudley's room, careful not to wake him, and gazed lovingly on her comatose child. Dudley, as always, was asleep. She took a seat next to his bed, picking up his unresponsive hand. "Don't worry, Duddikins," she crooned. "Mummy won't let anything happen to you, not again."

There was a noise in the other room, the small spare room, that made Petunia jump. Mystified, she stood and walked drunkenly towards Dudley's door and stopped at hearing more voices in the hall. Recognizing the voice, her face curled up into a mask of hate. Potter!

She found them sneaking in through the room's small windows, and when the boy tried to plead with her, Petunia firmly and deafly threw the little monster out with the girl he'd smuggled in.

It had been the price of her son's life: the red-eyed man had allowed Dudley to live as long as Petunia held no contact whatsoever with Potter and his family. It was a price she'd happily paid. Too many others had died in this unseen war going on between those freaks. _Vernon_ had died. 

Shutting the front door again after marching the Potter brat and that redhead girl out, Petunia turned around and stomped back up the stairs, determined to go to sleep.

She stopped when she heard the rattling of the back door in the kitchen, stopped halfway up the stairs. By the time she'd turned back to go to the kitchen, the rattling had stopped. Her eyes narrowed and she waited for a moment, leaning against the stairway banister. Maybe it was just the wind... When the lights flipped on, she stormed down the stairs.

The two were in the kitchen, sitting at the table as you please, both with tall glasses of water. Potter looked completely at ease, and his little girlfriend was nervously swirling her cup in her hand, her red hair shining in the kitchen light.

"Out, out, out!" Petunia screamed, throwing her hands in the air and pointing to the door so stiffly she nearly took Potter's head off.

"But Aunt Petunia-" The boy held up his glass imploringly.

"OUT!!!" They took their cups with them.

She waited in the kitchen for nearly five minutes, prowling around like a raptor, waiting for any hint of a sound. When ten minutes passed, she smiled in satisfaction and started out of the kitchen.

They were both sitting in the front room, shoes off and placed by the door. Petunia stared, eyes whirling from the kitchen to the spare room and back to the two, quietly talking with Potter motioning with his hands. Seeing her, the little brat had the guts to smile and gesture to the two cups both still held. "You don't have any lemonade, do you?" he asked amiably.

Petunia's mouth fell open, little noises escaping from her throat. This couldn't be happening. How did the freak get in? Why was he tormenting her?

Potter frowned faintly, then rolled to his feet and shrugged. "It's ok," he said as he walked by into the kitchen. "Water's good, too. We're a bit hungry. Do you mind?"

He left her alone with the girl, who was self-consciously shifting in the sofa. Petunia's face dropped and wordlessly, she stumbled and fell into the couch. "What do you want?"

The girl's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "E-excuse me?"

"What will it take for you to leave?"

"Oh, oh!" The girl flushed and looked down, her toes tracing circles in the carpet. Petunia glared, but her glare wasn't even seen. "We're... you see... it's like this," and the girl looked up with a shaky smile, "we're only staying until Harry gets strong again. And maybe until that dragon shows up. Then we'll leave because we need to get back to Hogwarts."

Petunia's mouth fell open again. "D-dragon?" she repeated dumbly, visions of fire in his head.

Potter walked back in again, bringing with him three neat sandwiches. The first he offered to the redhead, and then the second he placed in Petunia's own hands. "So," the boy started with a cheerful grin, "how's Dudley?"

The question was a slap to the face, and unable to take anymore Petunia let out a scream and threw the sandwich at the boy's head before running upstairs to her baby's room. She caught a glimpse of Potter's surprised face before the door shut.

Footsteps up the stairs were no concern of hers. She pushed a chair against the door then crawled over to Dudley, grabbing his hand again and pressing it against her cheek. "It'll be all right," she murmured again, ignoring Potter's shouted questions. "It'll be all right."

"What the..."

"Oh man..."

She ignored the voices as the door opened, but couldn't ignore it when Potter kneeled down next to her and looked at his cousin with an expression of utmost shock. "Aunt Petunia, what happened?" She glared at him wordlessly, and Potter sighed before leaning closer to Dudley, eyes almost scanning the unconscious body. The boy turned. "Ginny?"

Petunia noticed the redhead walk up and kneel next to Potter, noticed her give a small shake. "I don't know."

"I'll tell you what happened," Petunia bit out venomously. "You! You and that freakish sister of mine. You disappeared and when _they_ came looking..."

Potter's twelve-year-old face turned to stone. "Voldemort." The name brought to Petunia's mind the memory of her wonderful husband lying eagle-spread on the ground, of green flashes of light, of Dudley's tortured screams, and of red eyes. "He did this."

The redhead girl shifted closer, and Petunia nervelessly fell back, eyes clouded with the memories. "What is it?" the redhead asked.

"Probably the Cruticus curse. Hermione's parents were kind of like this-"

"Hermione?"

"Oh... this, uh, girl I knew. _Anyway_, the point is that Dudley's suffering from being held under too long." Potter's forehead wrinkled with frustration. "I only know a little bit of how to deal with Crucio shock..."

Petunia leaned against the wall, lowering her head as the two kept up their whispered dialogue, and when she woke up she hadn't even realized she'd gone to sleep. It was morning; sunlight was streaming in through Dudley's window. Blinking, she found no one in sight. Petunia wrapped her robes closer and stood, body aching after having slept at such an awkward position, and hesitantly checked on Dudley only to find her son's condition unchanged. Had last night all been a dream?

She slowly walked outside of the bedroom and her nose caught the scent of sizzling bacon. With a quiet groan, Petunia walked to her own bedroom and collapsed in the bed, shoving her head under the pillow. The brat was still here.

Hunger finally drove her out, and dressed Petunia started downstairs. Going to the kitchen, she stumbled into the brat's girlfriend, who promptly smiled. "Good morning, Mrs. Dursley," the girl greeted. "Harry cooked some breakfast if you're hungry." Without waiting for an answer, the girl walked off, holding a pair of clothes under her arms.

Potter was just washing up the last of the dishes in the sink, and he gave a small nod towards the oven when he saw Petunia. "There's some bacon and eggs," he offered, drying a pan and placing it in a cupboard. "And toast. Ginny even made some of that orange juice from the cartoon, but she made a mistake somewhere between adding water and stirring so I suggest you just go for milk."

He stepped back from the sink, drying his hands, and flashed her a quick grin. "Thanks for letting us stay over, Aunt Petunia. Dudley seems to be getting better, so I wouldn't be surprised if he even woke up on his own sooner or later." He glanced to the clock. "We've better get going."

Petunia wordlessly sat down at the table, staring at her nephew. Who was this child? Certainly no one Lily could have raised. He was almost someone _she_, Petunia, could be proud of.

Potter gave her one last smile then left the kitchen, and Petunia scrambled to get up. "Wait," she called out hoarsely, hit by a moment of impulse. Potter stopped and looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "W-what did you say about Dudley?"

Potter laughed quietly, shaking his head and half-turned. "It's amazing, actually," he answered in a contemplative tone. "You see, I know a couple of people who've gone through what Dudley has, and even now I have no idea how to help them. No one does. But Dudley... well, I guess all that fat really does have a purpose. It acted as sort of an insulation against the pain, if you understand what I mean. So, right now, even though any other person would have completely lost their minds, Dudley's really just in a simple coma. He's recovering fast. All the healing spells I cast were practically useless when compared to his own body's healing rate. Wait for another month or so, and he'll be up again."

Potter's grin abruptly faded, and he shook a finger at her. It looked positively absurd; the kid was Dudley's age, Petunia remembered, only twelve and here he was chastising _her_! "After he gets up, or better yet before, you should get out of here. What were you thinking, staying here where anyone could find you?"

The pure incredibility of the situation nearly slapped away her senses, and Petunia could only gape as the young boy helped himself to another slice of bacon before leaving the kitchen. Petunia followed him, stomach still growling but her hunger not as important as making sure Potter really left this time. Just when she was about to say something, though, the doorbell interrupted her.

"Harry?" the redhead asked, coming down the stairs, her hair wet like she'd just taken a shower. "Who's that?"

Potter, only a few steps away from the door, paused and shook his head in perplexity. "I have no idea," he admitted, the serious expression on his face contrasting greatly with his young body. Petunia was beginning to realize that there was something seriously different about this boy than any other child his age. Reaching for the door, the boy opened it a crack and peeked outside. "Yes?"

As soon as the door opened, even the slightest of cracks, a small golden thing shoved its way in. When Potter let out a yelp, Petunia nearly fainted. Had the wizards come back? Were they here to finally finish her and her son off?

She nearly fainted at that, but regained some of her strength when she saw Potter break out into a huge grin. She did faint, however, at the realization that the little gold thing was actually, without a shadow of doubt, and unexplainably, a miniature dragon. Her head hit the floor, completely stuffed up from the events of the last twelve hours, and she thankfully remembered no more.

*

"Oh, brother," Harry muttered, pushing his dragon away when he noticed his aunt fall down.

Ginny hesitantly stepped beside the unconscious woman, struggling to get her in a sitting position. The first-year glanced at Harry. "I think you overdid it."

"What?" Harry turned to face her, his face incredulous. "Overdid nothing! I'm telling you, that woman had it coming. Be glad we're in a hurry, or I'd really pull out the pranks." Overdid nothing, he repeated in his mind viciously, staring at his aunt. Although, Petunia had handled the whole thing rather better than he'd imagined. "I wonder where Vernon is..."

"Oh!" Ginny noticed the dragon, and she gave out a squeal of delight. "It's ok!"

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned, scratching the dragon's nose. "Of course it's ok," he replied indignantly. "I told you it would be."

The dragon was purring like it did when it was especially happy, pressing its snout against Harry's throat. Harry winced when its dozens of small spikes raked scratches along his skin. The dragon sniffed at him, sneezed, then went back to purring, apparently satisfied at whatever it had discovered.

"Here," he pulled his dragon off his neck and handed it to Ginny, "I think it likes you better." The dragon let out a half-snarl towards Harry, struggling to get out of Ginny's hands, but Harry had already turned back to the cracked open door. Something wasn't quite right about the whole situation. He slowly opened the door all the way.

And found, waiting, two of his oldest and best friends.

Harry grinned madly, almost jumping up at the sight of Remus and Hermione, and even their worn-down appearances couldn't stop his smile. "Remus!" he yelped, throwing his arms around the werewolf. "How are you doing? What are you doing?" Without pausing for answer, he turned to Hermione. "Long time no see, Hermione. You should have heard Ron. He was going all on about how... you..."

Memory hit him midsentence, and sheepishly he backed off from the shocked expressions of the strangers.

Remus was almost gaping, and Hermione was measuring him up. Harry rubbed the back of his head and looked around for something--anything!--to get him out of the situation. Even Ginny, who'd grown to completely trust him since yesterday's fun and escape, was giving him a weird look. "So..."

"Harry?" Hermione recovered first, and she gave him a confused smile. "Harry, what in the world are you doing out of Hogwarts?"

"Uh..."

"How did you get all the way over here?" Remus demanded, and his tone was the no-nonsense kind that he got when he was completely serious. "You only went missing yesterday."

"About that..."

"We apparated, of course." Harry silently groaned as Ginny joined his side. The dragon had calmed down, but when she gave it a thumb-space of freedom, it nearly ripped away from her and rejoined Harry, wrapping itself so tightly around him that he nearly suffocated. Its claws dug into his shoulder, making him wince, and despite the dragon's obviously innocent look Harry had a sneaky suspicion that the little demon had reverted back to physical torture.

"What?" both shouted after a moment of stupefied silence.

"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," Harry murmured quietly, "when will you learn to be quiet?"

The redhead turned on him, part angry and part confused. "What did I do?" she demanded.

Harry leaned in and whispered, "You know all that stuff I told you yesterday?" She nodded. "I thought you swore not to tell anyone."

"Ohh..." Her eyes went wide, and she stared at Remus and Hermione. With a small smile, she shrugged her shoulders. "Never mind?"

"Harry Potter, explain what's going on," Remus shot out, the touch of anger in his voice surprising Harry. Remus never got angry! His perching dragon let out a low hiss, a small puff of smoke emerging from its nostrils in response to Remus's tone.

Hermione started, and Harry finally forced himself to really look at her, keeping in mind everything he knew about this dimension. She looked tired and hard, no surprise after what she'd probably been through. Remus was the same, but more tired, hard, and totally deadly. Whatever the reason, the werewolf had completely lost his humorous side, exchanging it for a lethality that chilled Harry.

'Well, you do what you do to survive,' the trapped teenager thought to himself. "What's going on?" Harry repeated innocently, and shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Remus took a step forward, and Harry instinctively took a step back. His dragon, unsettled from the movement, squawked and batted at his face with a wing before sliding its tail around his neck and lowering its wings down like arms to cling around his upper arms, practically melding into his skin if its humplike body could be accepted as normal shoulder shape. Harry grunted; the little bugger was getting fat!

"Harry," the werewolf practically breathed, "stop playing these games now. Your parents are very worried about you. Dumbledore himself sent me to find you." The resentment packed in those words startled Harry into rashness.

"Oh yeah?" Harry smirked back. "Well, maybe I don't want to go back to that stuffy old castle. Maybe I feel better out here, where I can actually do something."

For some reason, his words were like a shock to the werewolf, and Remus instantly lost his edge, looking lost.

Harry dropped the smirk and continued in a sincere voice, "It's horrible in there, Moony. It's almost like everyone's just waiting to die. I mean, I know I probably don't know anything about what's really going on," 'and boy, do I mean that!', "but I'm willing to do whatever I can. Who knows, maybe a little kid like me can make a difference." His dragon let out a low hiss, climbing up his head to perch magnificently in a nest of black hair--and ruining any effect Harry's words might have had. Irritably, Harry swatted it away and it flew down with a soft roar, floating to strut in the air in front of him for a moment before landing on the stairway banister.

Remus had shuddered at his nickname, and was now staring at Harry with something akin to amazement on his face. Hermione, on the other hand, smiled at him and stepped forward to envelop him in a huge hug. "My thoughts exactly, Harry," she quietly murmured. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Ginny pale, and Remus suddenly slumped over. Hermione was nearly ripped out of his arms as the dragon dove from its perching spot to attack.

"What a touching scene," a cold, high-pitched voice chuckled, "but really, Harry, I think we've wasted enough time. Right now, you're going to lead me to Hogwarts--and remember, it's whether you want to or not."

Harry didn't have to turn to realize that the voice was Voldemort, but he turned anyway when the expressions on his friends' faces turned from happiness to betrayal. Harry glared at the wizard and meant to spat out that he would rather die before helping Voldemort anywhere, but when he turned some powdery substance was flung into his face and he blacked out.

*

"What an assembly," Lord Voldemort commented, looking over the three conscious people watching him. He smiled and made a rolling motion with one hand as if introducing something spectacular. "All gathered in honor of today?"

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a shimmer of gold. Almost negligently, Voldemort waved his hand, sending the dragon down. It hit the ground, hard, and gave one twitch before going completely still. Curiously, Voldemort examined the mini creature, then made a motion with one hand. One of his servants stepped forward, bowing so deeply he was almost groveling.

"This is the creature?" Voldemort asked, but really didn't need to hear the answer. From the thousands of memories that had assaulted his brain when he'd healed Potter, one of those he could still recall clearly was Potter's memory of the day this dragon was created. Voldemort could almost taste Potter's childish excitement that day, then the fear that the dragon would be reduced back to a key, but though he could remember those emotions Voldemort couldn't recall exactly what Potter had done to bring the dragon to life in the first place. Creating a familiar was secret work.

Pity the boy wasn't awake now. Conscious, Voldemort would have been able to dive through his waking thoughts and pick out any bit of information he wanted.

"Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort summoned the power to float the small dragon into the air. Potter had done quite well in creating it, using amazing imagination and sharpness in calling out its thousands of spikes, talons, and fangs. In the air, the dragon gave a small shiver, and on the floor Potter reflected the movement. Intrigued, Voldemort sent a spiral of power through the unconscious dragon, causing its leg to twitch. Potter let out a low moan.

Interesting.

"Bag it," he ordered, grinning at the thought of how the dragon would certainly react upon finding itself once again trapped in a bag. The Death Eater mumbled a humble reply, snatching the dragon from the air and moving away.

It was still only midmorning. Not wanting to waste the day, Voldemort leaned over to where Potter was still spread out, and viciously he landed a kick in the boy's side. "Wake up, Potter," he ordered.

There was a flicker of consciousness, then a flood of thought, all of which Voldemort was privy to. Most of the thoughts were unconnected ideas, meaningless phrases, junk and rot that filled up Voldemort's mind and slowly started giving the wizard a headache. In retaliation, Voldemort kicked the boy again. The boy's thoughts instantly cleared up and converged on a certain dozen ideas and memories. Most of the thoughts were half-panicked realizations of exactly what the situation was and some dark, evil even notions on what Potter planned to do when he got up.

Voldemort chuckled. "Really, Potter," he drawled in amusement, "would a Gryffindor really do that, even to his most hated enemy?" Potter gave a low growl, and Voldemort laughed, kicking Potter again. "You have the most interesting ideas, but right now I want you to stand up."

And so, his thoughts turning even darker, Potter stood up.

The flood of ideas and information really was giving him a headache, so Voldemort growled out, "And stop your thinking!"

Mercifully, Potter's mind went blank.

Voldemort grinned, then turned to the now speechless three who were watching. He gestured to Potter. "Amazingly obedient, isn't he?" the Dark Lord purred.

"What-what did you do to him?" The redhead girl was the first one to recover her wits, or maybe she had just been the stupidest of the bunch, calling attention to herself by speaking. She had, Voldemort recognized, been the Weasley girl Potter had been dragging around for the last day.

Ginny. The name popped up from Potter's mind.

"Nothing, Ginny, nothing at all," Voldemort answered silkily. "At least, nothing Potter can't handle." A memory bubbled up from the boy's mind, recent, only a few days ago, and Voldemort added, "He survived a basilisk, didn't he?"

The girl paled and looked away, swallowing hard. He could remember meeting her just the other evening. She didn't strike him as a particularly brave girl then, and now she looked ready to fall over.

Amused, Voldemort looked to the others. One was a werewolf, Dumbledore's agent. Voldemort recognized him easily; the werewolf had foiled enough operations to raise him to the Dark Lord's personal attention. Voldemort gestured, and the werewolf was dragged away despite the girls' gasps. The one girl left over glared at him so hatefully that Voldemort paused, trying to recall why she would be so angry. He came up with no answer, but Potter's memories bubbled over again and her name came up.

"Don't worry, Hermione," he said quietly, elongating her name so it almost sounded like he was hissing. "Your turn to be taken will come next."

The girl flinched at her name, then, eyes downcast, she muttered, "Just because you know my name doesn't mean you're all-knowing."

"Is that so?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

The girl raised her eyes, still glaring defiantly. "Yes," she answered firmly. "Besides, I know your name, too. I know all about you." Her voice was rising, as if she thought that by speaking faster and higher she could escape from his anger. "You act like you're better than all of us, but you're really just the same. You're just like what you're trying to kill."

Voldemort shook his head slowly, amused again by her blind courage. She was willing to die right then, and the only reason she was still alive was because she was amusing. His Death Eaters, scattered along the house's front lawn and porch, were already eyeing her with displeasure, practically twitching as they waited for the order to silence her disrespectful mouth. Instead, Voldemort just motioned for her to continue.

She flushed, but her words came faster and faster. "You're Tom Marvelo Riddle, and you're just like I am. You're no better than I am. You're a-"

Her words turned into screams, and Voldemort glared down at her from where she curled up on the floor, all traces of amusement gone. He thought he felt a twitch from Potter, but investigating he found that the boy was still completely under the powder's influence. "Take them away," he hissed at his servants, face nearly white with vivid anger. All the Death Eaters cowered. Off to the side, a limp bag twitched in the hands of a Death Eater.

Voldemort turned and stormed inside the house, burning with the need to kill someone. He didn't want to hurt the mudblood just yet. She'd wait until after Hogwarts was taken over, when he could take all the time he wanted to make her regret her words. And the Weasley girl was a pureblood, despite her parents' shaming loyalty to Dumbledore. She could still be shown the light. The werewolf was probably getting tortured already.

Upon entering the house, Voldemort noticed the limp muggle lying in the middle of the hall, and it took a moment before he could place her. Potter's memories called her Aunt Petunia, but Voldemort knew her personally from somewhere...

"Ah," the Dark Lord breathed, placing the woman. He scowled at her. "Evidence again. I thought to be merciful to you, muggle, because you believed that muggles should be kept away from wizards, but what do you do with my mercy? Allow wizards into your house, feed them, take care of them?" He shook his head and looked around. There had been a fat man and a fattening boy. He was pretty sure the boy was left alive, but could see no sign of him.

Voldemort left the house, disgusted by the even small betrayal of the muggle. "Burn it," he ordered a Death Eater. Another twitch came from Potter, and Voldemort was certain of it this time. That was cause for some pause. Potter's memories showed him to be almost immune to the three unforgivables, and even though the powder was an enhanced version of the Imperius, Potter might be able to overthrow it. Well, that would be dealt with later.

Against the backdrop of a burning house, Voldemort addressed his Death Eaters. Those gathered with him were him most loyal, except for Severus whose only purpose was to provide the powder in controlled amounts. They were all still semi-cowering, cautious of his anger but more excited about the prospects of finally ending the war.

Standing in front, Voldemort informed them that today was the day when all their goals would finally be realized, when the wizarding world was cleansed. They cheered as one and, as one, apparated to Hogsmeade.

*

For years, Hogwarts had been under constant siege. Dark creatures and Death Eaters huddled in masses outside the castle walls, supplying a continuous bombardment on the stone walls. Because of this, all outside classes were cancelled, and all doors or windows were locked tight. There was no obvious way in. Dumbledore, however, had the help of secret passages and hidden apparation zones to continue directing the fight against Voldemort.

But because Hogwarts had been under constant siege for years, no one could tell when the tide shifted and the battle strategy of the Dark Lord changed. Inside, with all the doors locked and windows closed, no one could see the masses of Death Eaters and dark creatures funneling towards a single person in the middle of the field.

*

Harry felt like was beneath the waves of a dark ocean. The feeling was like the second task at the Triwizard Tournament, and he languished in relaxation for a few minutes before he realized that, under the water, he couldn't breath. No matter how hard he struggled, however, he neither rose nor sank in the dark water. Calming down, Harry tried to think.

Murmurs reached his ears. Screams of pain. Harry struggled more, viciously now, throwing all he had into rising and for a moment his head rose. Not enough to breath in the fresh air above the water, but enough so that the water wasn't so dark anymore.

He paused there, forcing himself to relax. With a slight frown, Harry tried to see where he was, but when he paused there was a pressing pressure suddenly all around him, forcing him deeper into the water. Harry gasped in a mouthful of water, choked on it, and spat it back out as he sank to where he had been in the first place.

Frustrating. Harry slowly stretched out once the pressure was gone, reached his fingers out as far as he could. The murmur of voices was still around him, but he ignored all sound as he started to swim forward again. The experience, Harry thought with a wry expression, was much like those magical ropes; slowly, if Harry went slowly, then he could manipulate the water. Somehow, he could push himself up again, and that pressure was gone.

Harry swam an inch forward, then another, and by the time he realized exactly where he was, the air was only a few inches beyond his fingertips.

Voldemort had done something, something that sent Harry into this ocean of water where he couldn't breath but he wasn't dying yet. The feeling was like being held under the Imperius Curse. 'That has to be it', Harry decided, swimming closer to the surface.

The murmurs had become clear. Harry could hear Voldemort ordering people around, and curiously Harry swam closer to the surface of the water, letting his nose breach.

The pressure came back immediately, but Harry understood an order to burn something. Feeling sick, Harry let the pressure push him down a few feet, relaxing until it went away, then he slowly swam back up to the surface again without letting anything go beyond the water. The water must represent the curse, and Voldemort could probably feel whenever Harry tried to escape. Going still, Harry quieted his mind and tried to listen to what Voldemort was saying.

Every once in a while, Harry felt a small twinge go through his body, and with every twinge his mind automatically focused on some certain bit of information. Ginny's name. The Chamber of Secrets episode. Hermione. Aunt Petunia.

'He's going through my thoughts,' Harry realized with horror. The next time he felt that twinge, he tried to focus on something completely unrelated to whatever Voldemort was looking for. A search for Harry's memory on creating the dragon, Harry was able to force his thoughts to focus only on how the dragon destroyed Snape's potions room. The pressure came back for a moment, but since Harry hadn't gone past the water's surface, it disappeared, leaving behind a trace of irritation.

Harry grinned. This could get interesting.

Voldemort tried to discover where a secret passageway into Hogwarts was; Harry threw back at him the memory of a time when Harry threw mud at Malfoy after sneaking through the passageway to get to Hogsmeade. Voldemort tried again, and this time Harry focused on meeting up with Sirius under the Whomping Willow's tunnel, recalling in special detail just how frightening that night had initially been.

The pressure came back, searching just above the water's surface so intensely that Harry couldn't move for a few moments, and then Voldemort tried to search through Harry's thoughts for apparently random memories. Harry confused him by showing first a memory of his childhood with the Dursleys, then a memory of his childhood with Sirius. His first year at Hogwarts as a fifth year was followed by his first time meeting Ron and Hermione. Harry tried to blur the two memories so that, altogether, nothing made sense and he could feel Voldemort's frustration leaking through.

Harry focused on his memories in the Chamber of Secrets, switching back and forth between two different dimensions so fast that his different memories collided and became one. Yes, Lockhart had been there. Yes, another Harry had shown up. Yes, Fawkes saved him. Yes, his dragon was incredibly helpful. Yes, Dumbledore believed him. Yes, Dumbledore accused him of being evil.

Eventually, Voldemort pulled away, and Harry could feel his confusion. What he didn't count on, though, was the wizard's order for Harry to start thinking again.

Bam!

Harry blinked as he looked around. He was at Hogwarts. There was a twinge in his head as Voldemort tried to sneak into his thoughts, so Harry pulled up his different memories of how the castle looked. First year, seeing the castle for the first time as he crossed on a boat with Ron and wondering how the castle would be. Crossing on a boat with a little girl who had fast reflexes and getting thrown into the water as Hagrid tipped the boat. Second year, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh--all the memories muddles together until Harry himself was getting dizzy.

Voldemort was muttering something, and the twinge disappeared. Grinning madly, Harry cheerfully told the wizard, "I told you hopping was terribly confusing." Then Harry apparated without spending a moment thinking where to go.

He ended up on a street, ruined and completely trashed. Harry looked around, didn't recognize anything, then took a deep breath and apparated again. He was going against all the rules of apparation, the biggest one being concentration. When he'd gone in to get in license, the wizards had stressed over and over again that if he wasn't thinking, he'd end up splinching himself.

Harry had no idea where he was. It was too dark to tell, but that was because he was in a cave of some sorts. Closing his eyes, he took off again and ending up in the middle of a muggle street. Everyone stared at him and started jabbering, eyes wide. Giving a small smile, Harry closed his eyes and apparated again.

There had to be some place he could escape to, some place he could get to Dumbledore and tell the old man everything that happened without jeopardizing Hogwarts' safety. With that thought, Harry closed his eyes and apparated again.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in the middle of Dumbledore's office, with Fawkes giving him an odd look.

"What the...?"

Harry looked around. It had to be Dumbledore's office! Before he took a step, though, he felt a twinge in his mind. Harry immediately closed his eyes and thought about the street he'd just been on, with all the muggles goggling, and mixed that memory with the image of the ruined street, trying to cross the two pictures to confuse Voldemort as to where he really was. The twinge went away.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry walked outside of the headmaster's office and looked around, wondering where the old wizard could be. Dumbledore must have set up a secret apparation point, one that Harry luckily stumbled across. Seeing no one, Harry cursed softly, knowing he could hardly stay in the office much longer, so reluctantly, Harry simply grabbed a parchment from the wizard's desk and scribbled out a hasty message.

He really, really did not want to stay here any longer. The halls were clear as Harry started down towards the potions room, recalling all the potion ingredients he'd need to get back to his original dimension, where hopefully he'd be able to figure some things out.

Everything was empty. Breakfast time, Harry decided as he zoomed through the potion ingredients. But just when he was about to take the drink that would send him home, Harry looked at the smoking vial and stared at it.

He couldn't. He couldn't just abandon this dimension. Fate, in her own funny way, had been telling him that no matter how hard he tried to run, Harry couldn't get away from his responsibilities.

"And my responsibility is Voldemort," Harry quietly murmured and he put the vial down, capping it as he slid it into a pocket. He sighed, giving himself a shake, then slowly started back up towards the Great Hall. "Time to get to work, then."


End file.
